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Dec 2015
Maybe this is what trust is
Your scorching hands
Searing my shoulder blades
“I could if I wanted to”
Turned my insides gray

Thirteen year old skin
Stretched thin
Ached to peel away
Where your fingers had played

I was an instrument
But that’s not how I preform
I can only make symphonies now
Alone

I loved you
With every pulse behind my skin
Family
Blood didn’t have to make the bond
My protector
Becomes the predecessor to all my fears

If you’d press your ear against my chest
A reverberation of no’s would pound your eardrum
Freshly thirteen
Stolen firsts
I can never right again

“Don’t act like you don’t want it”
But it was you
Who mastered in pretend
Every word I write makes you more and more fictional.
Written by
Grace  Cisgender Female
(Cisgender Female)   
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