April 8th, 2022

you took a sample
of our memories
to sculpture an illusions,
but the ones you picked are
those that left a mark on me.

you not realizing what they
were, try to hypnotize me with
your creation, you end up
opening wounds I thought were
already healed.

I start picking on my
fingernails again,
the edges bleed but my blood
no longer taste like iron,
instead it’s sweet;

the type of sweetness
one could get addicted to.