Months have passed, yet the sigils that deface your flesh burn in my retinas. Phantoms of your long-boned hands haunt my curves and angles. I still dwell
in those five days when you'd gut me with vicious smiles. Your mouth was a knife; your kisses opened wounds in me. Mornings
we'd exhale clouds of frost. The air was old smoke and spilled beer. You'd turn to sear the lightbulb heat of your hard chest into my corpse-
cold skin. At noon we'd falter outdoors numb, half-blind in the snow with cigarettes and unspoken words stale in our mouths. With a certain bitter taste that seeped down our throats.
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