The scars I have
The heart I wear on my sleeve
All the old boys
Left heir own mark on me
I take my pick,
Pick him quick
That night he comes by
And we get down to the slick
He peels off my clothes
Ripe fruits rid of ugly skin
Dew on his lips trail
Mixing on mine with gin
My mind hazed
Joints still burning,
We’re blazed
Memories, are they real?
That morning I wake up
He’s nowhere to be found
My razor takes his place
Then I dropp to the ground
White walls splattered
Blood painted upon
His name engraved forever
Because now he can’t be gone
My memories nonexistent
My scars bear all of the truth
My razor persistent
Beauty of those truths
Charlotte Andreski
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ugly-truth/
