There's a wound
and it's yours - your width, length and shade -
to put your fingers inside,    
keep it weeping, keep me kicking out.  
I swear I've tried every potion, ointment, prayer,  
it heals only to reopen when you're near,
or when a song reminds me, poem reminds me, place
takes me back  
to when you left  
- when I was leftovers.  
In your Eden I laid myself bare, swore I'd never,
never again.  
I ache in my unyielding weakness -  
you must know it, even with years between us, you must know it. 
I burn in my head, in space where I can't share, where that genuine, limitless love is just a dank prison to die in.  
You'll never give over  
and I'll never give in.
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Author's Note
If stress were a lover.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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