Lover, Our Scars

Twisted, I missed you, and I hate you so much

But my hunger, desire, confirmed by your touch

So cold, so sharp, but I love your embrace

I loathe that I love our discolored lace

My claims that I am better off without you

Shred like the skin that let’s my colors bleed through

That metaphor we made is still beautiful to me

Tragic, pitiful, shameful, in the least

I can’t say I’m proud to wear your crest

These are marks of a traitor across my chest

But you satisfy my masochism, still

The thought of you, your kiss, gives me chills

So I’ll give in to temptation, just this once

And hide you away again for another three months

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