Paper Cuts

my skin

as any knife

can never do.

I bleed as no knife

could ever make me.

Fancy this cut,

so shallow;

hurts my bones,

bleeds my mind.

I am irrational

in my pain.

Outside I smile;

the wound so

small and silent.

You were the page

on which my story

should have been writ.

But you left me

nothing more

than this cut.

Why won’t it stop

bleeding?