Scissors

You ask what the scars on my knees are from I say its because I've been knocked down Over and over again But it just means I’m good at standing up And you ask about the dotted white on my ankles I say I've dropped any too many Half empty half full glasses On my feet You point at the scar under my chin I say, no matter who I have become Taking risks is a language my own And with a finger you Push up the edge of my Raspberry Blackberry Colored dress And with a voice quieter than my thoughts What about these And yes There are ribbons White jagged ones along my hip But the point is they’re white Not the pink fleshy color of a smashed Tangerine I take your hands and say Let me tell you a story About a paper chain girl and boy Running through life holding hands And let me tell you If you cry on paper it breaks And the paper chain girl And the paper chain boy Went looking for some tape And they found it In the quiet stolen moments when she asked herself Why do people taste like the ocean? But it was just the aftertaste of teardrops Nothing more Much less They couldn't find the tape And they were made of paper And rocks was his heart The paper chain boy closed off from the world And The girl had exhausted her supply of elementary bandaids Rock and paper So she went looking for some scissors. And guess what? She found them.