You are not defined by the frail spine that stretches when you reach up to embrace me. You are not defined by the plump lips that form my name in times of desperation. You are not defined by the eyes that look at me and make me feel like the heat of a forest fire is on my chest.
You are defined by the loves you’ve lost. You are defined by the words you’ve screamed at your mother out of pure fury. You are defined by the quick beating of your heart when you look at another girl, my love.
Most of all, you are defined by the dark past that you are so reluctant to share with me. Let me in.