They say that for every seven years,

Humans change body.

Like a snake shedding its skin for a new one.

I am 20.

And a few months from now,

All traces of you will be gone.

Your marks inked on places they shouldn’t be,

Your fingerprints staining my being,

Your strokes that left invisible scars.

 All of them – gone.


But for now,

I’ll keep the hidden bruises.

I’ll let myself count the brands you’ve left.

I’ll let them linger.

So I can relinquish the moment

When I’ll stare at the mirror,

And see the reflection of someone else –

Someone else staring back at the new me.


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