The first cut is the deepest

Then, I grieved

For my flesh intact.

A trial of desperation and rage.

And shame.

Love suddenly dammed, damned, and now no where to flow,

flooded.

Destroying what once I was.

Screaming, screeching, decaying.

I sank.

I didn't swim.

I relished the exquisite self-harm of drowning.

But I was washed ashore.

There is no cure. Even time has not

Healed

As they promised it would.

But the bleeding has staunched.

My hearts blood contained

So I could stumble on.

And I am happy now. In spite of that cut,

And many more like it.

A veteran of a dozen battles.

I'm now at peace with my wounds.