My broken bones are not
so conventional in representation.
You probably lack knowledge of the treatment
or, maybe you are “perfect” in that way as well, I without
amazement.
They poke my insides
trying to get out to see you.
Like my words that are scared
and retreat from your glare.
They used to be straight and orderly
until your touch instantly shattered them.
The pain was supposed to be there, yet
the break, was an eerie relief from fret.
Only set them right again
if you are willing to stay here.
If you leave, the fractures will be
the sole reminders of you for me.
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