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Four wishes



I wish your words cut like knives.
Tearing open my innocent flesh,
So that I could see you were a monster.
I would have stood a chance.

I wish your touch left bruises.
My battered body could have matched my broken soul.
Skin painted black and purple means run.
But I stayed. 

I wish your kisses were daggers,
I would not have mistaken it for love
It was a dark, dark hellish force,
With the smile of a saint. 

I wish it was “bad”.
The shame wouldn’t live in my body,
The guilt wouldn’t eat me alive. 
But it’s never “bad” enough, is it?



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