I pulled up the neck of my sweater before I knocked on your door today. The story etched on my skin is not one you want to know. Even though it traces something beautiful.
So, I buttoned another button before I served you your eggs. I layered my hair over my shoulders before I hugged you goodbye. Because I love you, and understand how helpless exposure can make you feel.
But I could not conceal the breath of release that escaped, when I closed the door behind me and could shed what was not my own. Or suppress the ease of my smiles, when he presses his lips against my raised colors and whispers, "You're healing nicely."
love.
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