they still whisper
and talk and wonder
and ask about
the jagged little
constellations on
our hands and feet
and neck and
shoulders.

they pity us
for we must have
lead painful lives
to be marked with
sin all over our
skin but while
they were naming
stars with love we
realised that the
the light we see
now may just have died
some million years
ago.

they want to know
what haunts these
shadows under our
eyes what keeps us
up at night why our
bodies are riddled with
hardened seams what
storms reflect in our
eyes what tornadoes
echo in our ears tearing
ear drums and reeking
of rivers men drowned
in.

we warned you it
wasn't a bedtime
story but you insisted
so we tainted your
ears with our
tale.

we went star
gazing to look for
orion but there was
a comet shower
and the sky was
blurred with hazy
lines so we took
scalpels and dug
them in to make
constellations on our
skin.

we walked
unknown streets and
scaled fences with
barbed wires that
scraped our elbows
and knees but
we never did find
our way back
home.

we were catching
minnows when we
tripped in the silver
bosomed river
didn't even fight
the current and
let the sea bed
bruise our lungs
then stitched
our chest with crimson
threads.

we spiked our coffee
with poison but
our heart loved us
more than we did
ourself so it spilt
at joints to
let the toxin
bleed.

these scars are
not tallies of
our failures no.
these scars you
see are a
timeline.