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Mar 2015
I'm trying to match
the beat of my heart with yours,
and I'm beginning to truly understand
what the basis of an abusive relationship
is like. We're nothing but porcelain
dolls
that have shattered into a million
shards, and glued back together into
a mocking semblance of "what if"...

Parts of our anatomy
are missing, now: hands, so that
we can't
hold one another, my cognitive
dissonance
so that I may never fully feel the handicaps and
disabilities
of You+Me.
But I can't
just leave.
You are a fraction of my soul.
I am an even lesser fraction of yours.

I should be afraid
of the fact that we've deteriorated
into nothing but shadows, fleeting
and haunting each other's heads.
But I am more afraid
that it's just me
who feels this way-
that I'm alone with your ghosts,
while you never
even saw
mine at all.
Constructive criticism is always welcome... Or just drop by and tell me a random thought. -ivy
Ivy Swolf
Written by
Ivy Swolf
377
   atlas, ---, Quinchet and Ariel Baptista
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