Silk and Scars（demo）

我爱您

Your braid unravels on my pillow,
Dark silk against hospital white.
We count each other’s scars like constellations—
This one from childhood, that one you gave yourself.

The morning light comes cruel and clean,
Washes us in shades of guilt.
But your hands remember,
Always remember—
How to hold without leaving bruises.

We’re not pretty when we love,
No petal-strewn montage.
Just two women stitching a life,
With threads that keep snapping.

Your mother’s ring hangs on a chain,
Cold between our chests at night.
We pawned our futures yesterday,
Bought one more month of rent and wine.

The neighbors hear our muffled fights,
The way you always slam the drawer.
But they don’t see the toothpaste cap,
Left unscrewed just how I like.

When they write our story,
Make it ordinary:
A laundry basket full of wounds,
And the stubborn act of folding.