I Hurt Myself
written by: Melissa Lemay
again i handed
him the scalpel, his hand
was shaky, his touch
not firm, he had
no sutures to close up the
lines that he inflicted
or he made, or him
i watched him saw myself
a part, the bleed a
welcome sight that I’ve
grown accustomed to — it didn’t
scare me, nor did
the warmth of blood —
it tells us we are alive.
***
patternization
along caudal lines because
he couldn’t look
me in the eyes;
a slice here, a warping scar
thickening along
my torso, not close
to my heart, but i feel its
rhythmic beating
through it. we laughed,
he laughed as i told him “what
makes me happiest
is knowing you better
than you know yourself;”
***
then i know myself,
and things like this are not
sustainable for long.
adventure is not
a sin, though we dress it
underneath one
thousand white roses,
counting all the petals and
waiting for our princes
to shove them under
white picket fences — the
petals, or the princes,
in the end it doesn’t
really matter which.
- I Hurt Myself - May 13, 2026
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