When I heard you speak,
for the first time in two years,
my ears bled. I didn’t remember
you having that effect
on me before. But I’ve also
been wrong before.

When you kissed me,
for the first time in three years,
my lips blistered over,
they crusted with scabs
and leaked puss, so I scrunched
my nose in disgust.

When you held my hand,
for the first time in four years,
it felt as if I had received
a thousand paper cuts
by a thousand crescent
moons.

When you said goodbye,
for the very last time,
my heart morphed into a piece
of carved stone. I very much
doubt it will be damaged
again.