Two have become one but a hot blade has been taken to your skin and you have to wear these stories like scars. You want to wash them clean, and watch as she swims in the bath, slender limbs loose in the water. Love as a form of meditation; reaching towards a more honest expression of self. Remember that your body has memory. Scars do not always blemish. You kiss them and call her pretty. You’re always surprised by the substance of her under your fingers. You want to lie beside her in the darkness and whisper your truths to her: To my queen, forever is a mighty long time, but I knew you before
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