The Marks That They Left On My Soul Poem by James McLain

they came with their smiles, their hands,
their knives hidden beneath soft words,
and I let them in, every damn time.

some left cigarette burns on my skin,
some left whispers in my ears that never left,
some just walked away, taking pieces of me with them.

I drank to forget, but the bottle
only magnified their faces in the glass.
I fought sleep because that's where they lived,
laughing, touching, haunting.

women with red lips and cold eyes,
men with firm handshakes and empty hearts,
the jobs that crushed me, the streets that swallowed me,
the nights too long, the mornings too cruel—
they carved their names in my bones.

I thought maybe one day
I'd be free of them,
but they are the ink in my veins,
the reason I write,
the reason I curse,
the reason I still get up,
even when I don't want to.