I edit myself out of photographs.

CONTENT WARNING: SELF HARM

I picture portraits on my arm where the skin becomes stretched white canvas, the blade a paintbrush, or perhaps a key.

What are photos for if not to be burnt? Why should I leave this picture unmarked?

Laughter from the club bathroom, music from down below. You enter my mind, flooding my senses and filling my head. If my arm were a picture you’d destroy it too, wouldn’t you?

Because who could leave a pretty thing untarnished? Why protect silver from the flame? Why save me from your pain?

If my arm were a picture it would not be recognisable. An abstract portrait, an idea of a person. Slashes down the cheek, but only mine. We can’t damage the rest of the picture now can we?

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/x2m9iw/the_day_he_listened/iml57ki/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf&context=3

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/x26rfa/oc_poem_inspired_by_erich_remarques_all_quiet_on/iml3xy4/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf&context=3