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TW: slight mention of bruises

my paper butterflies

crumple like your eyes when you're hurt

and when my feet remain cold

after hours under the blanket,

i know you are up to something.

the walls of my room

are covered with you

and it takes every fiber of my control

to refrain myself

from burning my house down with myself in it

my lips turn chapped on their own

and my skin parades pretty reds and blues,

i get dressed in the dark

so i can’t see your face

on my body

i am happy and i am secure,

i do not hold my head in my hands,

and i do not tell myself

"you do not exist to others",

my things are only mine, i have turned selfish

i go to my garden

the wet grass stains my breath,

and when i go inside

i fog up the room with disgust,

and mirth.

i thought you would be happy to know that i am happy.


Editor(s): Alisha B., Blenda Y., Uzayer M.

Photo Credits: Unsplash


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