Satisfying

It’s satisfying Red drops spilling onto white tile Ruining the beautiful innocence of happiness I once had, stains on the pristine floor of an expensive bathroom in an expensive house It’s satisfying because it’s damage I did to myself Because I’m supposed to be expensive too, perfect, crystal clean white But this time the red isn’t from ink marking an A+ It’s satisfying because the red on the floor I can clean I mop it up with toilet paper, press a button and it’s gone down the drain If no one ever sees, then was it even there at all? It’s satisfying because it never leaves Even if I mopped it all up, my skin will never be the same The lines and marks and imperfections, I’m damaged now Who wants damaged goods? It’s no fun to thrift for a new child It’s satisfying because it leaves me full Full of shattered glass carving through my lungs Because I can hear my heartbeat in the burning space the knife ran hours after I folded it closed It’s satisfying because it leaves me empty Like I’m caving into my chest cavity Cold and dark and alone, no matter how hot and full the room Most of all it’s satisfying because I can’t stop Because after 8 months 8 months of yoga in the morning 8 months of tea and reading at night 8 months without touching a blade to my skin I’m right back where I started.