I try so hard not to leave marks upon you - I blur the footprints I make tip toeing through the chambers of your heart, I smear the whorls and loopy marks left by my oily fingertips. I make myself as small as possible, I don’t want to taint you with my imperfect love.

You kiss the thickened skin left by past lovers - velvet tongue flicking across sensitive scars. I shudder at the sensation of you loving my every flaw. My heavy, lust lidded eyes see everything - staying open when they should be forced closed by our passion. I watch your moon kissed back rock - pulse - and I see my fingers dig into your flesh, pressing hard enough to bruise. My screams drown in the curve where your neck and shoulder meet - now trapped between my teeth.

We have become inseparable - when we are apart, our souls mourn the loss of one another. Aching, unbearable. This isn’t healthy for either of us - but neither of us care. We would rather suffer the aching loss of a ragged tear between us - healed when we press those raw edges together once again - than have a sterile amputation performed. Dulling our senses, killing our love. When pressed together, the barrier of scars and skin would only whisper a greeting to one another before falling back into a drug induced sleep. Better to live through the agony of loss only to revel in the joy of reunion than to anesthetize the entire process.

I would rather live with a broken heart than a broken soul.