Damage Control.

Starlyn shrugged of the blurring veil of sleep slowly,the grey light of an early chilled morning played along his skin, at some point in the night she’d stolen half of his blanket meaning his entire chest was tight and freezing from being exposed for however long.
The Pseudo light that the morning brought hid a lot of the clutter of the studio apartment, he stumbled in his half awakened state to the grimy bathroom, splashing water on his face, rubbing it into his stubble and staring at himself in the cracked mirror. He checked his latest tattoo, lyrics along his ribs, wincing as he remembered how much mroe it had hurt than the others because of its placement.
The tattoos people generally found less confronting than the marks that where beneath them and between them, a lattice of crisscrossing scars covering much of his chest and dribbling onto his upper arms.
He would smoke a cigarette and make coffee for himself and her, then he would leave and go back to his home, he’d say he’d call but he wouldn’t. Not because he was the kind of guy who promises you the world and then disapears into the sunset, because he could just tell from the state of her apartment she was not the kind of person that could withstand his corrosion, he would hollow her out and leave her broken and twisted herself.
He walked onto her balcony and lit a cigarette, their wineglasses still sat on the outdoor table, reminants of the purple, bloody, liquid still clinging to the bottom nook of the glasses. When the cigarrete was finished he walked inside, stared at her still sleeping frame, so fragile and vulnerable now wrapped in the whole queensized blanket. He decided against waking her for coffee and isntead wrote on a page from the moleskine in his jacket pocket, ripping it out and leaving it on her bedside, he kissed her one last time and drew a rune for safety and safe journey between her shoulderblades lightly with the tip of his finger. and then he left, the only thing that remained was his note:

This is not because you are just another girl.
This is because you are far to extrodinary
to become another hollow girl left in my wake
trust me, it’s better this way.

I’m sorry because I know this will still hurt
but trust me when I say it’s to save you
from hurting so much worse a few months from now.
I’ll always remember you are the girl who didn’t
shy away from the scars.

Damage Control.

A boy called Star

Melbourne, Australia

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  • VickyJaywalk
  • A boy called Star
  • Pooh
  • Ushna Sardar
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