15 May 2012
I tried that morning, to hide the cuts the cement created on my shoulders and wrists and knees. Long boarding was the best way for me to communicate with the dead boy even if I payed with the pain. So I quit trying to hide them and threw on a tank top and shorts. I wore my souls on my sleeves, but people wouldn't know I was just trying to contact you. The dead boy. My wrists were sliced from the rocks I had slide on and it reminded me of the time you punched a boy with braces, your knuckles were bloody and bleeding when you proclaimed "he had braces!"
When I walked into the library and sat down people wanted to know how the hell I did it, but I silently blamed it on the board. I didn't reveal the motives of going that fast made me feel like I was running aside your wind.
I blushed and said "they're so gross and they're humiliating."
But I knew I was proud of the mark of the secrets between us.
The girls responded with "yes they are really gross!" little did they know how much I cherished them. The signs I was a warrior for souls.
The girls chattered on the wear of my body from such a dangerous past time.
But than the boy who made me smile, the boy that reminded me of you said "I think they're beautiful."
Silence reached the table. Not a soul moved only yours.
And I smiled and Said thanks because I knew you were communicating through him. And I knew you would like him too.
Soul Scars • Opuss № I