Unfading Scars

What do you say, to the girl who yanked the knife away from your wrist when you pulled it across your skin like ripping paper?

How do green eyes feel when the person who found you with red on your sleeves has emerald in her soul?

Why does sliding a blade across your veins feel like drowning and coming up for a breath all at once? 

Scars may heal, but darling;

they never fade.

By: Amelia Pratt

Age 19

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For You I Just Might 

Voices drift, high to low, low to high in a room buzzing with everything but the one thing I want it to. 

Love.

You sit in that chair with that smile and those eyes and that beautiful soul and expect me to put out the fire in my heart that burns,

for you. 

And the light is in my mind and the skip in my step and the passion in my blood but no one is there to catch me when I fall running towards someone who was supposed to love me back. 

I can’t wait forever

But for you I just might. 

By: Amelia Pratt

Age 19

To the Girl on the Stairs

My God, you look familiar. You sit there with your tear stained face and your hair that hasn’t met the tug of a brush in three days. I see the veins in your pale fingers as you gently clasp your hands in your lap, because you’re so sad that your skin hasn’t kissed the sun in weeks. Your eyes stare blankly out in front of you, seemingly focused on nothing–but I know all too well your mind is clamped down by your racing thoughts. As your mom approaches you hurriedly brush away your tears and muster a half hearted smile to do the trick. A “Hi sweetie,” and a “Wow honey, you’re looking a little thin–eat a burger!” later, you’re again left alone without a glimmer of hope of rescue. 

How did you get there, sweet girl? Although I likely know that, too. I bet you handed your heart right on over to a boy without a second thought. At first he was careful with it. He fed it compliments and flowers, love letters and sleepy midnight kisses. How lovely is this? You remember thinking to yourself.

Slowly he became more complacent. Where he would once cradle your heart and protect it from harm, he now forgets it at the bus stop when he goes to work. How he once nourished it with love, he abandons with carelessness.This is weird, you thought. 

Soon enough he was not just forgetting your heart at the bus stop but hitting it with insults and lies. Other girls served as the weapon and his anger the trigger. Your once perfect, blissful relationship turns into a swirling of distrust and mistreatment. What happened? You wonder.

Sweet girl, stand up.

This lonely staircase can’t stitch your heart together.

By: Amelia Pratt

Age 18