I am the frayed string, hanging from your favorite hoodie that you're too afraid to cut.
I am the hole in the wall left behind from that time you got a little too drunk.
I am the the stringy flesh woven between the skin that was split in two from the brief graze of glowing metal.
I am the scent of your Grandmother's perfume you never thought about-- until that is all you can think about.
I am the empty side of the bed on the nights you need it filled the most.
I am every time you never said how you felt, slapping you in the face as the top half of the casket is closed.
I'm the prescriptions in the medicine cabinet, the blades in the razor, and the gun your neighbor keeps on a rack in his den.
I am the unspoken words in your mind that follow every "I'm fine."
I am never leaving you.
- JoinedJune 10, 2011