Cotton Red

She turned over her arms to show all the roots growing away from her heart. Huddled shadows of skin simultaneously covering her past and revealing it. In ratcheting sketches drawn too close to the surface. In triumphant sobs. All as broken as she was when.

Sallow treasure map she thought as she traced the path from the beginning of her life to its present. Same roads. Different names. Same scars. Drawing different pictures along my arms.

Same reasons. Now. Only more of them.