Library Girl

She sits there reading
Quiet at once,
Absorbed in the story.
Her hands put it back
On the shelf when she's done,
Slim wrists, painted nails,
Bracelets circling both her wrists.
He sees no cuts.
He watches her face and sees her smile
Watches her take out her notebook to write something down.
She must be a poet.
He sees her poem, black ink on paper,
Forming words, marks as dark
As the scars on his arms.
She turns the page -paper cut-
And suddenly bleeds all over the page.
He watches her go, bleeding, silent sobs,
Her poem lying ruined, stained, unreadable.
He wonders how to say, how to phrase it,
How to tell her he understands.