SELF LOVE

And know she is alone , desolate
With only memories that taint her mind
But for all that was and come what may
This is destined , this sickness is innate

Nimble fingers , trembling hands ,take the key
And she presses the corner into her skin
Unlocking herself like never before
An overspill of truths trapped within

With the floodgate open, a river runs red
Winding around her arm that falls limp
Carresing her skin with a warm tender touch
She bathes in the solace of everything left unsaid