Paper Cuts: A Poem

I have a scar
That slices through
My most meaningful smiles
And tucked between
My teeth are the names
Of those who told me to never
Stop grinning.

Like a twin
I thought of you as
The second blemish,
Marking permanence.

I’d rather have paper cuts.

Gone and over now
I’m thrilled to shake you off,
Comfortably curling fingers into my palm,
And slipping them into pockets like presents.

I can finally look at the spaces between fingers
Without seeing you hold them.

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