I bet you cut

"I bet you cut yourself," he says and it takes
All of me and more, and there is nothing to take. I laugh
and cry a little inside. Die a little more and smile
"Of course not."

He stares at me and it's like one of those dreams where you're
Naked and I want to shove my guts in my mouth and burn in Heaven,
rip my scalpel through my thigh, throw my skull at a window and let the
Pain in my body overwhelm the pain in my heart.

"I'm joking," he says and I think I should feel bad for him, instead I
Hate him a little. He's grinning and I think about how I'd love to
Carve his face into the Joker.
"I know," I say and I hate myself a little, too.

He's gone – back to me, front to his friends
and you'd think this was to become a nice old love story but
Happy endings only happen in books.
Some books.

"I do," I whisper and I laugh because it sounds like a wedding vow and I
don't think I'll marry and I don't think I can. I'm scarred and eventually
my scars will have scars
and there will be no amount of Chamomile tea that can fix me.