Don't read this

Your touch is exhilarating, better than drugs, calmer than heaven. The embrace of your arms, the beating of your heart next to mine, there's nothing more I can want in this world.  You fill my thoughts, my heart, my soul, my life.  I can't break the thought of you.  You're in every song, every face, every laughter I come across.  I don't know if it's good.  I don't know if I can let go.  You bring the light to my life, my reason to live.  You are the one that wakes me up, the chance to see you again, to experience your presence.  I need you in my life. You are my one, just don't be the one that kills me.

Picking at my scabs, the scars that I've covered in bandages.  The scars I'm afraid to show, thinking people will turn in disgust. I've picking at them until they burn.  Remembering the time it was a smooth skin.  Remembering before it was damaged. I'm torn whether I wear my sleeves down to cover up the sight, to fit in with those that have soft skin.  Yet the sleeves keep my uncomfortably warm in the sun.  All I want to feel is a breeze on my worn self.  A touch of comfort on my damaged skin. I feel my soul is all that is keeping it together.