Addendum: a list

here are all the ways I hurt:
the disemboweling sword wound from years ago,
 which cut me open and left me inside-out,
 raw with fear and wanting
 each nerve ending singed alive
the slow, hemhorraging trickle
 of the wound you don’t give weight to
 saying “it’s temporary, it’s temporary”
 until it’s not, and you’ve bled out
the sharp stab, blade between shoulder blades
 when you least expect it
 where you most resent it
 when you had just started to believe
you might deserve being loved.
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