used my razors on
my arms
but you took yours to my chest
flechettes carving wounds criss-
crossed so deeply
i thought they'd never heal.
and now -
with my clumps of scars
bisecting this purple-red organ
of mine
this insanity of the mind, the
things i accepted from you
as if they were my due, yes
your marks still live here,
much as i camouflage them,
best i can
your fingerprints in my life -
and although incessant ache
has faded into the peculiar
melancholy of memory, still
sometimes i stare at pictures
of you and wonder
about a parallel life i'll
never live, and the way
life brings us to our knees -
"i want to love somebody else
the way you love me."
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