I often wonder how I got here.
Whole like this. Stable like this. Shaken, stirred, yet still, like this. I should be pulling your unholy words from my wounds, those bloody shards of stained glass. setting smoke to my neurons, suffocating the memories with gas. bleaching you from my blood to get you from under my skin. dissecting you from my DNA, to unravel you from within. I should be broken. But I’m not.
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September 2023
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