Scars often fade from crimson to blush,
Opaque reminders of endurance, exhaustion.
The wounds are scratched open now,
Salt, tears poured in. Words haunt these cells,
Memories fade to gray, fade away,
All that is left is blackened blush.
Rip me open, see if I bleed the same crimson wine
As I use to back when my lips weren’t chapped
And these locks were trimmed and uneven.
The bed sheets and blankets are separate,
Just like us tonight, but you won’t speak a word of this
In the morning.
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