Novaturient

You knit your way into my life

Patterned and embroidered my days and nights;

Assuaged all the aches I thought I had 

Took my pulse, made it your own.



But little could I see

The tiny thorn winding its way 

From my rough, scaly hands

Up your arteries. 



You realized it. You saw that I was 

More needles than skin. 

Fine metal, malleable;

Smooth all along, with one unavoidable sharp point.



And you pulled me out. 

Pins aren’t meant for skin, however much they wished they were,

And all that I had left to do

Was succumb to



Paroxysms of weeping. 

Metal tears, produced from 

My very own melting form. 



The shape I take

Is the shape of your absence. 



Perhaps someday I can clip my thorns away. 

Peel my stem 

Stop hurting others. 

Perhaps someday I can strive to be 

More than only just 

A sight for sore eyes. 

Perhaps someday I can strive to be

Human-like. 

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