med

Carefully weave thorn-covered vines through the memories that you don’t want, let your fingers bleed, let them cry for your stupidity

 

I used to look at your sleeping face and imagine a child that I’d never wanted before

 

Shove the memories down your throat and swallow, may you bleed internally and suffer for months, may you smile widely at your dearest friends.

 

Don’t compromise yourself again.

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med

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