there's a sweet stillness within her. 

she always knows where to place her hands and how to have her head just slightly tilted. she listens intensely, nodding in agreement every few minutes while never breaking her eye contact. there's this sweet smirk she gives when you compliment her and it makes her entire face glow. she makes you feel like there is no one else who could possibly be more important or interesting than you. 

 i wonder who listens to her stories or what drives her excitement. i've actually never asked her about herself, i don't know that anyone has.

cuts

you can pretend you've never counted, but i know those scars on your arms are actually tally marks and the exact amount is burned into your mind. i can see that every scab is a map and your bruises are invitations to sleepless nights. 

you can stop hiding all the bandaids and iodine, since we all know it doesn't do much anyway. at least the stinging is real... perhaps later you can show me the ones you've managed to keep covered. 

feel free to lose control now.  scream, get loud. it would be a wonderful change from the cold silence.