of good things, i'm sure.
the pain was only temporary
and even when the wound was fresh, i barely noticed.
i see this gash across my wrist now, and it makes me smile.
not a sick, twisted, masochistic grin,
but a nostalgic, lingering, satisfied smirk.
maybe if i pick at it enough, it will never go away.
it will become a constant reminder
of one vague and glorious evening that i can't recall.
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