Comparisons

She went,
And at the moment of her going
Then I died.
But for a time.
And wounds that heal leave scars
And scars can fade
or itch
or tear apart once more
and leave the wound to bleed
again.
And then we show our scars
and then compare our hurt.
“She hurt me more,” I say.
And you reply,
A little terse.
“No. Mine is worse.”

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