useful body
Erasing your fingertips.
Painting over your love.
The bruises no longer hurt, but the memories do.
Picked me up at 2, dropped me home at 11. Of course, I’m only useful in the evening. At night you don’t want my presence. Sharing a bed for the night would be admitting I was a person.
You spoke in whispers, never saying what I needed to hear.
Scars will fade and I will forget.
Copyright © Molly Matchett | Year Posted 2024
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