Scratch Marks on Skin

When I write words of love,
I write them with the blood
seeping through the scratches
that you made
on my skin
with your red-coloured nails
with black stripes on them –
a rhythmic movement of your hands –
on my back –
when we made love.
Where have you been?
Return!
You still carry my dead skin under your nails,
and the scratch marks on my skin
never heal.

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