As the day draws near, I think of what I told herhow she finds light where I bury my shadows.I wonder what hands have traced my scars, what small mercies touched the places I hide.She looks at me and calls my ruin potential; I, broken and unfinished, am revealed.
I slam my fist into a door, a cruel punctuation, then lie there asking why she stays, why she sees a lantern in the hollow of my dark.Light filters through the very black I carry; we wander the woods of our mistakes, searching for a fate not bound to exile.
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