The holes I hide
Wandering fingers tracing across my own skinsearching, seeking
imperfections
to scratch, criticize
a futile attempt to fix and mend by breaking skin or pulling roots
a guilty hidden habit loved ones tried to stop
not self hurting, but a habit of the unconscious or sleeping mind
I am lost in this habit, looking at it now admitting
to lost moments in front of the mirror
to my bloodstained fingernails upon waking and the tufts of hair lying around our home
it is not about pain or stress
but a lost child trying to mend by breaking
to a habit of grooming that is so ugly
yet every hairdresser knows this secret
every nail stylist wonders at the strength of nail-polish needed
such an ugly secret
my shame when my lover finds yet another
hole in myself I made
not for pain or anxiety
but simple habit
Poetry by SecretWords
Read 464 times
Written on 2020-07-14 at 03:25
Tags Excoriation Habits
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