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Concealed Name
April 1, 2015
He picked up every single fragmen(t) of my sh(r)edded conscience, and, with determin(a)tion lining the edges of his voice, swore he would fix me. In 10 months, he put me back together perfectl(y.) My eyes aligned and the (c)urve of my spine tilted flawlessly, remembering the rise of my right hip above the other and the geometric angles of my fingers. In 10 months, I was taught that lov(e) is real, and he was taught how to feel.
© Nicole B., Newcastle, WA
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