Im picking at this scab
hoping that it will go away and not re-appear.
The scar underneath
keeps getting worse after every attempt.
The longer it takes,
the uglier it gets.
I refuse to believe:
that there is room on my body for yet another one.
I have so many
they don’t look good on me
or anybody.
Yet, neither does a broken heart.
Im holding them both together
with band-aids
ever since we have grown apart
-Destiny Fochtman