“The sting of this blade. I feel this when I touch you. When I’m around you, it’s like fresh cuts. Painful in a way I crave,” he mutters. “What is that one?” My chest expands, and I roll my lips together. I know what it means for me. I know that emotion so well it feels like I was born to experience it. I’m afraid of what it means for him though. “I—” “Tell me,” he urges. “What is it for you?” “Love.” I say it on an exhale. “That’s what love feels like for me. It stings, it hurts, because it’s real and you’re afraid of losing it. But it stays with you. It scars.”
