When We Know Better

For the black one, and the gold one.

One day, when I know you better,

I will peel back the

layers of my skin and

show you scars

time has long since healed:

perfect crescent moons

carved into aching flanks

by regretful nails.

One day, when you know me better,

you will learn

to read the language of these lines,

and you will know that

some days

these were the only words

I had to tell you:

Help me

I’m not coping

I’m not coping

I’m not coping

And some days,

they were crimson threads that bound me

to tangibility

when my head threatened to

sweep my feet from under

me.

One day, when we know each other better,

we will sit together

underneath

the stars of our achievements,

and we will see how

bright they shine,

and we will know

that stars are brighter than the crimson

lines we write upon our souls.

One day, when we both know better,

we will take a silver pen

and transcribe across our

souls the truth:

that we are precious

we are magic

we are kind

And the silver glow of our words

and the golden light of our stars

will outshine

all the crimson etchings of our guilt,

and we will rejoice.

For we are worth it.