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.
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.
Once a blooming red rose, full of streaming life in its veins. Now a wilting black petal rupturing with death and pain.
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