cuts.

most people are
papercuts-
barely scratching the surface,

a quick and fleeting
s.t.i.n.g. that
hardly serves a purpose.

but [you] are the slice
that cuts so deep
it takes years just to scar,
throbbing until
I grow   n u m b
to the pains.

yes, you are the wound
that, in time, is fine
on most days,
but still aches
deep in my bones
when      it        rains.

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One thought on “cuts.

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