We were together that day, I felt your rings wrapped tightly in my hands.
It was the first time and I didn’t give it much thought: about an hour and your name, in cursive, was on my arm.
Nights, days, dawns and sunsets, mirrors and glass to look at myself, to remember you. The first, the only one, the most beautiful. Finally mine.
Then after a while it started to hurt. When you didn’t understand me anymore, you couldn’t avoid crying, arguing. When you asked me not to look for you, not to write, to cancel you from everything.
And now my skin screams, while I try to distance myself from you. Not to think of that black hole and the inner scars.
Thinking that deep down the pain is the same, but your hand is now far and I won’t leave here smiling, but trying to forget you. To burn your name.
