Tick Tock.
Tick Tock.
11pm.
Tick Tock.
1am.
Tick Tock.
2am.
Pick up the mobile,
search for his name.
Hover over "call."
Flip the phone shut.
He wouldn't answer anyway.
How many times,
late at night,
have I needed to cut,
and fought with myself.
How many times,
at 3am
have I called his phone
and heard that stupid voicemail.
Praying his phone
would by some chance
be on
and he could help
me through this cutting longing.
Home many times,
after hearing "leave a message"
have I put the phone down
and walked over for the scissors.
Then how many times,
have I told him I cut
and see his face fall,
disappointment in his eyes.
If only
He could be there
With me
To fight my longing
For blood to pour from my wrist
When tears cannot pour
from my eyes.
If only
I could hear his voice
When I long to feel on my skin
What I cant feel in my heart.
Maybe
If he was there
to tell me there is no need
for me to punish myself,
Then I could help be saved.
Then I could sleep.
Tick Tock
4am.
Tick Tock
Cuts may heal in time,
Scars will remind.
Tick Tock
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