Paper Cuts
by Ella C. Weinmann
She used to tell him about paper cuts,
How they’d skim the surface,
But were too deep to touch.
How a bullet wound
Would be tended to,
But a paper cut,
They said,
Should not cause you to be
So distraught.
She used to tell him about paper cuts.
All the scars and tragedies
We cannot see.
How because they never came to the surface,
They were ever so deadly.
Doomed to be dismissed
By the people
Too oblivious to pay attention
To the fatal consequences
Of their cynical actions.
She can still remember
How they lined his face
Hiding under the bags of his eyes
Unearthed by the cries
Of his self righteous pain.
She can still remember
The moment she realized
He was not the one
These paper cuts lined.
Now it was her
Or maybe it always was
His scars a figment
Of his sociopathic mind.
She never considered
He’d be the one
To leave these cuts
That would never be undone.
And now she’s only left to wonder
What her life
Should’ve become.
She never considered
That these little cuts
Would morph into suicidal gun shots
That would have no regard
For the potential they had
To leave scars to decorate
Her unbeating heart.
So here’s to all
Your little paper cuts.