Ink Stained Soul…

The bleeding little girl in me and the artist want to freely express what I went through. My manuscript witness to my story of survival. A way to make the pain mean something. The paradox of it is bleeding in front of people. I only want strangers to know they can live with a torn soul. I want him to see all of me because I trust him to hold me if I shakey. My protector, my witness, my always. The call I can make. The arms that give me safety and rest. Bleeding out in front of those that feel like they are picking at my scars to see of I will  curl back up and die terrify me. Can I stay when my mind won’t turn off? Can anyone? Loss so much loss. Tears, safer alone. I am use to that. I know I can survive. I have my entire existence. Solitude my peace, my sanctuary, my place to bleed safely. All I want is to not be there alone.