087;
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
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