Shout It Out

She glimpsed them and asked me
What they were from.
I said, "Oh, nothing,"
The usual reply.
She insisted.
I said they were an accident-
Only half a lie.
She didn't seem convinced,
But she let the matter drop.
She doesn't know how I used to bleed,
And how now I've stopped.
I don't know why I hide the scars,
Or what is really the truth.
Why do I deny what happened?
It's not as if the slices in flesh
Are anything all that new.
I know that she wouldn't care,
And even if she did,
She still should know.
I'm sorry, Carey, I can't say
What occurred after [Eva] was dead.
I'm sorry these pale white scars
Bind me down like heavy chains.
Why can I only explain SI
In dry, factual terms?
Why do I use this disguise that drains
So much from me
And so much from you?
I wish I could just shout it out.