Heart Pumped Mistakes Poem by Chris Newlash

How I miss the shape blade race across my skin.
How I miss you slice me up, again and then again.
How I miss me hurt myself, I am not so sure.
How I miss to feel alive, for all I can endure.

How I miss the touch that killed me inside and out.
How I miss the roads I carved that flowed through me about.
How I miss my heart, which I made pump mistakes.
How I miss the art that I made with all of my heartbreaks.