There's still an imprint of
your hand on my face,
from the day you first struck me-
a love story between
paper skin and
iron fists.
It's been long since the redness faded
(long, not gone)
a bruise visible to not another soul
but mine.
π ππ πππ ππππ.
It smiles back in pictures
mocks me in mirrors
follows me on the street.
You created the mark
but I gave it a life,
a name- a structure
and decorated it with my self worth.
Bruised knuckles smeared in betrayal
ππ°π°π¬ π’π΅ πΆπ΄ π―π°πΈ
Snake infested waters
π πΈπͺπ΄π© πΈπ¦ π©π’π₯ π₯π³π°πΈπ―π¦π₯.
Feb 16, 2025
Feb 16, 2025 at 6:48 PM UTC
There's still an imprint of
your hand on my face,
from the day you first struck me-
a love story between
paper skin and
iron fists.
It's been long since the redness faded
(long, not gone)
a bruise visible to not another soul
but mine.
π ππ πππ ππππ.
It smiles back in pictures
mocks me in mirrors
follows me on the street.
You created the mark
but I gave it a life,
a name- a structure
and decorated it with my self worth.
Bruised knuckles smeared in betrayal
ππ°π°π¬ π’π΅ πΆπ΄ π―π°πΈ
Snake infested waters
π πΈπͺπ΄π© πΈπ¦ π©π’π₯ π₯π³π°πΈπ―π¦π₯.
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