there are splinters in my fingertips from where i've touched youMature

There are splinters in my fingertips from where I’ve touched you
and run my stupid hands against the grain of who and what you are.
These old habits they die hard and they die slow and they
kick and they scream and they fight the whole bloody way below ground.
There are ruptures where you’ve left your lips linger too long on my skin,
and my veins begin to split and leak where the bruises have just blossomed.
These old memories haunt this house like the ghosts of our love,
massacred here in this room, in this building; this place is a grave.

The End

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