he traces my scars 

like they’re a mean of navigation;

a map, 

a star chart 

sometimes, he pauses 

looks at me

I can sense his question

through the silence

I want to tell him,

that the only thing

he’ll discover here 

is how deep my self loathing goes 

but I just shrug 

I know he’s temporary,

they never stay for long

he has that spark in his eyes 

love is still a miracle for him 

- it’s just a poison to me