[Poetry] My OCD hits me like a whisper in a crowded room.
A chill in the wind carries summer from sight The storm overtakes my mind A chill in the wind brings a shiver of fright Love of a harrowing kind
I slice my hands on your paper heart with every fold as I try to return you to who you once were. This lesson is one I should know cannot be mended with creases. Like the cuts on my fingertips masked with a bandage, a hidden tear still leaves a scar.