I just let the pain take over, allowing it to numb the pain of being left behind.
When he inches into me, I feel the pain, but I also feel the invisible chains around my wrists break and shatter.
Maybe if I try hard enough, we'll fall into each other and become one single person and we can share our pain instead of carrying it by ourselves.
Once a blooming red rose, full of streaming life in its veins. Now a wilting black petal rupturing with death and pain.
The vertical lines that run down his forearms are the most disturbing, thick and jagged as if someone took a razor to his skin. I wish I could run my fingers along them and remove the pain and memories that are attached to them.
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