fresh wounds
i lay awake each night
waiting for the quiet to crawl in
so i can peel back my scars, layer by layer,
and listen for their voices as they breathe
do they laugh?
do they cry?
how else would i know their truths
if i didn't strip them raw
the dark has eyes like a wolf
and in her i see everything—each line, each fault,
and everything that bites at heart
i see it all as it is
silence is the only torch i need, and it cuts cleaner than any spear
i blow out the lamps, just not to see the blood spill
and ask the stars
what i should do if she drowns me down neck deep?
each night i tear at my skin like it's paper—
maps of sins that never heal,
i pray for solace, for peace too
but the hollows i can't fill
still weep through cracks in my skin
i tell myself to stop,
to wait, to let them fade—
but patience is a ghost, and i am too restless, chasing shadows that never stay still
so i pick
then i bleed
and the night listens, quiet as a grave, waiting for the gods who didn't care
-priya🌸