Kinsey Peterson

closings xv

Dig the knife so far into your wrist 

that there isn’t a single blood vessel left intact

One line becomes

Two

Two three

Over and over

And over

And 

 

Bruises

Anything you can reach

Selfishly deep into the flesh of your thighs as the blood spreads

And purples

Into greens and yellows below the surface

Over and over

And over

Until there isn’t skin left unmarred