Tracing Patterns

This is who I am
or who I was for a moment

I wrote it all over my skin;
onto my calloused hands,
battered arms,
and weak knees

I was high on a drug
that’s slowly being stripped from my veins

but there’s no turning back
my withdrawal is about to peak

In panic,
I run the words through lukewarm water
But no amount of rubbing
can erase what I’ve already done

It’s engraved
in permanent ink

I am guilty
I am ashamed

but I don’t want it to change

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