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