Traded Hurt

Our relationship has been left out to hang, like Jesus was on the cross.
But this time, there is no salvation attached to the death.
You were more fire than I could dare tend to.
Even Satan would not survive this hell.
These days, all I ever taste is mere bland wax, no longer my spices or doughnuts.
Those are for someone else now.
You were me, just in a separate body. Same soul.
It feels weird seeing myself with someone else.
I pray you never see this, but hope you someday miss me enough to check.
You, my asphalt on which I could make track marks with my words.
My favourite piece of poetry;
Take care now.
Dear me.

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