Scab
There are infinite days that you stay on my mind. That twinkle you get in your eyes when you laugh that laugh that causes my heart to flutter.
Making my heart try to convince, bargin and plead with my mind, this time will be different. That my love and loyalty wasn't in vain.
Then the deafening silence of my phone not ringing, causes the scab of our past damage to itch.
I pick at my wound. Scratching and peeling till it bleeds, cause I like the color. Then I complain about the pain it inflicts on me.
I am an undercover masochist, indeed.
An emotional cutter with a rusty blade, made of the unapologized, painful memories of you.
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