You told her she had a pretty face.
I studied it.
Too many Instagram filters.
Too much eyeliner.
I don’t think you ever said anything about my face.
I think I had paid you all the compliments, hundreds like raindrops over your skin, I washed you clean.
I left you emptied.
Vulnerable.
Vacant. Anyone could move in.
I had to leave.
You left first.

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