7.3.12

I am not sure what you find
so beautiful about me,
about the lanky and long limbs
that are my body
but you run your rough fingers
over my skin every time
like it might be the last.

I am not sure how you found
the single soft spot of my heart
and made it solely yours,
warming it from the inside out
from wherever it hid
behind blackness and hurt,
but I’d never ask for that back.

It is yours,
forever.

I am not sure what life without you
looks like now
that you are all I see.

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