Flayed

I seldom feel that sweet release of easing into friendly waters, instead i throw
myself against walls
of silent stone, ready for the slaughter.
Now sweet friend i turn
and ask
what would you have me do?
Bite my tongue, make due
with none,
or simply return to you?
For a wound can heal
many times through
but scars are what remain
and i ask of you
what would you do
with someone whom you have
flayed?