everything
i've
ever
let go of has claw marks in it, but that
doesn't mean I always got away unscathed myself. You sunk
your venom so deeply into me it often felt like my heart was
imploding. Sometimes you would relinquish your vise-like grip
just enough for me to wrench free, always tearing parts and
pieces of myself off in the process. Sometimes you would caress
these wounds with your double-edged honey tongue, but next
moment your piercing lies would slash them back open so that
the momentary sweetness only ever felt like fistfuls of
carelessly flung salt. When you finally realized you'd
bitten off more than you could chew you spat what remained of
me out. You left behind a mosaic of fragmented flesh; I have
mended, but I am a different kind of whole. Our vicious tug of
war left me maimed and scarred and wondering whether you bore
the remnants of my own clinging as deeply embedded or as
superficial scratches.
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