You have the cure for what I've got. You carry it in a locket around your neck. Maybe that's why you keep me at arm’s length--you can feel the keening. You don't know your own power. How could you? There aren’t any holes in your body. The systems, they all work. Your nerves are superfine. You think I like you. Really, I’m sticking around long enough to see that locket open. I want to be there when the cure spills out, maybe like smoke, maybe like gunshot. Either way, I’ll be here to remember what it’s like—being whole.
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