Poem: My Question Marks

Photo by Taylor Leopold on Unsplash

I’m slowly slipping into questions

Question marks on my skin when I dig my fingers into my palms

I want to communicate this pain I inflict

Sometimes I translate this through color

Colors so bright, they pop out to greet

Covering the entire page as I scratch this canvas with pencil scratch

Diligent lines, making sure there is no white

The way we used to cover each other

Question marks you trace in skin with your finger

Lightly sending shivers down my back