Life Of A Cutter Poem by Tiff Murphy

As the first knife slashes through my flesh the tears behind my eyes seem to fade,
As the knife penetrates my skin again the first drops of blood falls to the ground,
The heavy breathing and sighs of relief,
Won't be heard by anyone but me,
He sits there patiently waiting for me,
I walk out and smile to pretend it never happened,
But the smile fades when my eyes meet his glaze,
He shakes his head and asks why,
But I have no reply,
Maybe its because of the baby that almost existed,
Maybe its the remembrance of the pain and humiliation of that one hazardous night,
Maybe it's the way they used to taunt and haunt my dreams every night,
Or maybe it's because I'm a failure and they won't seem to let me have a moments rest,
I can't answer which one it could be but I know it's only a short time before something else erupts,
The storms brewing,
Can't you feel it?
I don't know if I can bare it,
I wander what it will be this time,
Will he leave?
Will it be another one of my very own grief?
Oh how I adore him,
His skin upon mine,
His lips so nice they send chills up and down my spine,
But when his eyes meet mine,
My breath always seems to be trapped as the fluttering in my stomach and on my heart quickens,
I wish him to always be mine but the secret is still my own and I can't ever let it be known,
But when they ask me why I'll just close my eyes and say for another time,
I don't know,
That’s how the secret life of a cutter goes,
When you’re dying on the inside and bleeding on the out,
If the screams would be left out would they hear or finally listen,
I don't know,
That’s how the secret life of denial goes.