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The time i softened my touch to love you like you deserve

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You said that the floorboards of our apartment
Creaked like my bones whenever we stepped

out of bed and that my words were like
Splinters embedded in your skin.

When I left, you took a knife to your wrist
and attempted to cut them out.

There’s a 3in scar where the doctors
stitched you back up

that looks the way pasta does when you
throw it against a wall to check if it’s done.

You told the police that you were tying
to remember the way I’d draw lines

on your skin with my fingertips whenever
we were done making love.

We got back together a year later, and
instead of tracing your veins the way

I used to, I kiss the scar I indirectly
put on your arm.

Our new apartment has carpet.



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