You left your mark on me. And I do not mean teeth marks and scratches. I mean stretch marks and bruises on my heart and soul from all the ways you bent me out of shape to change me to your liking. At that point you complained about how I was not the same person I was when you first met me. You said I was different inside and out and that you had no idea who I had transformed into. How stupid of me to let you rearrange my pieces and reconfigure my entire existence without ever questioning your behavior.
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About the Creator
Carmen Portillo
Poetic mind with a wanderlust heart
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