Tattoo the very lines of your insults—
Your hidden jabs,
Your inconsistent replies,
Over my heart, till every person I ever meet again, speaks the same words to me
Do you forget how you treat the glass window before it breaks?
Did you forget when you stepped over my frail body, wracked in sobs, in broken moth-coloured winged lies?
Did you forget the curt reply to my astonished face—
You laughed later on, after you hung up my ecstasies of the day,
I will remember forever.
And everyday when you call, knowing we have walked past these dark lanes of misery, of my dusty molten paper torn feelings –
You will see,
You will see me hiding a cracked teardrop, hiding my fingertips that bleed in red scars around my throat
And I will thank you endlessly for it.
Title from song by Tate Mcrae
Poetry.inc 