She sat cross-legged on the floor,
one fist clenched
the other clutching the blade
she raised the blade
pressing it to her skin
and traced out a line
first one
then another
when the blood became
too dark for her to see
she simply wiped it away
and carried on
why is she doing this
I asked myself
what is she drawing
I inched closer,
not wanting to startle her.
She didn't seem to notice my presence
I looked at her bloodstained blade
then to her wrist:
a single letter was carved deeply into her flesh
she raised her blade once more
pressing it to her skin, she began again
I watched her work,
etching one letter after the other
Realization hit me
She was writing his name
That's when I saw....
The girl was me
