Meaningless

Your hands trace my inadequacies,

Why must your memories haunt me?

Flashes of a meaningless moment, fill my head repeatedly.

Seeping into my eyes, as they claim my bedside.

How many times, did I cry lying alone on mine;

So — What else can your hands find?

I thought these scars would pass with time,

But this wound is still fresh.

Bleeding steadily with every move I make.

I fear this ones cure has been hard to find.

Sensitive and soft, I like to tell myself what a strength.

I often hate who I am, in a world as harsh as this,

My skin is torn apart in so many interactions.

New and old, I wish I could let them all go.

They won’t fade as quickly or as easily

As I seem to be.

Losing myself to your memories,

Erasing each part of my own story,

Scarring myself, with all that could be.

If I were without these meaningless memories.