you're a work
of art he told
me. i believed
him and smil-
ed. i needed to
be told that. b-
ut the next day,
he left me beh-
ind with a note,
"yes my dear, y-
ou are a work of
art, the scars on
your wrist make
you you. the sc-
ars on your hips
make the curves
all the better.
i love you, but i
can't have you,
dearest lover,
me" i cried te-
ars of jewels a-
nd let the smile
fade from my
pink lips. i let t-
he smile dissa-
pear from exist-
ance. it would be
a while since she
smiled again.