still wear your shorts to bed sometimes ******* the hole in the side. i don't connect them with you anymore except for the few times i catch myself in the mirror and remember staring at myself in your sliding doors wondering when i would be brave enough to get away from you.
the pain is dull like all the white ridges on my arms and thighs but the boy in shakespeare class wears your cologne and monday, wednesday, friday every breath i breathe in class is frightened.