THe BLaDe CLaRiFiCaTioN.
6:48 a.m.

Dear C,

You.. You, my dear, are my lovely.

My blade, well, it is what it is and it does what it can. And though it stabs me in the back, you--with nothing more than an airy expression and the tenderness of your palm--remove what I cannot seem to grasp on my own.

You, my lovely, of all things do seem to share the positive traits of my bathroom cabinet relic; but you could never hurt me like it does. And that it, well, I'm shamed to say that it is only an extension of myself.

Though, lately, I've had a hard time talking to anyone about my weakness, I am still here, admiring you from a distance.

Afterall, you always were my silver lining.

Always, Em.

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