Keeping Pressure On Open Wounds That Are Insecure

you can't see it,
but my throat
has been slit
numerous times:
layers of scar tissue
built up
layer
after
layer
split open
like broken threads
of string
cut open
with a pair of orange handled scissors
frayed.
covered with
a brown wool scarf
my mother
crocheted for me,
the first time she used
her hands
those delicate slender hands.
a christmas gift
keeping pressure
on open wounds
that are insecure;
they have the potential
to become
fatal.
blood soaking into
the fabric
turning it
crimson
more floods out
turning it maroon,
i take it off.
you can examine
the decaying words
lodged in my throat.
but i don't know
if i'll ever remove it.
my shaky hands show
i'm scared and nervous.