if every time you hurt me i got stitches
my heart would be protected by scar tissue armor.
our sex was just another way to see who'd end up
on top. we keep sticking the knife in and pouring salt
in wounds made before we met. i want to love you
almost as much as i want to hate you.
you are in the sour taste of my grandmother's lemons-
the bitterness of my tea. i wonder what we both did
in our past lives to deserve each other.

it must have been bad.

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