Some time ago
high up, that
the ground (which
was never particularly
friendly, even to begin with)
forced a tiny, tiny, hairline fracture
to appear on the surface of your skin.
Since then, you have been fragile.
So delicate, that all my soft
touches, and unheard
breaths, that I
cracks and lines.
You tried to hide the
marks that they made on
your face and neck and body,
because you thought that they were
ugly. Disfiguring. Shameful and void of
beauty. But, unbeknownst to you, darkly and
secretly, these cracks were joining from
the inside. Knitting together, but not
with new skin, or new you, or old
you, even. Stitching them
together, was some