One glance at the paper thin skin
That encased her veins
And he fell at her feet in worship
Disbelief that a creature so delicate could be real and
Be his.
He never saw in the corners of her nights
How she pledged herself to misery
And the absence of self-pity
Using the harsh sword of her words and thoughts
And sometimes the sharpness of actual blades
To pierce herself, over and over
Punishment for her faults and failings
The sting of a razor against her skin
Bright red welling of blood
Jerked her out of her depression
Reminded her what it was to feel.
He never understood what it meant to her
Only feeling like parts and never a whole
Experiencing emotion when it wasn't appropriate
And remaining impassive in times of intense feelings.
She would always be
Inadequate
To herself.
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