Fyra

More Than a Shirt

I grab the short-sleeved shirt out of my drawer and take what feels like years to put it on

 

Pausing at each step thinking about how I haven\'t worn this shirt in so long

 

As the shirt wraps me up like a warm blanket, the scars stay visible on my arm 

 

Their white glow radiates, causing anyone\'s gaze to gravitate toward them

 

I rip the shirt off, salty tears finding their way into my eyes

 

Sitting on the bedroom floor, I see a shadowy figure in the distance, bite-size

 

Her blond hair glides alongside her as she makes her way over to me 

 

Her dress bouncing as she strides happily

 

There is a bright innocent smile plastered on her lips

 

That quickly dissipates when her eyes fall onto the white streaks along my wrists 

 

She doesn\'t hesitate to speak and these next words chilled me to the core

 

“We aren’t supposed to pet the cat when he’s angry, you know his claws are sharp!”

 

I feel the tears once again come to my eyes

 

Waiting until she bounces away before I break my disguise

 

I remember when I was just as innocent as her

 

Before all those nights crying with my vision blurred

 

When scars were caused by cats

 

And scissors were used in crafts