Veil

Dearest,

Please know this:

When you reduce me to an art and place me as a thin-skinned character in your narratives, you reduce me to a pile of skin and bones. You starve the blood right out of me. I beg you, brother, love me not as an object but as one scarred, fully and carefully, by the wrong words. Take care to make me not in words, but in gestures. We know of your schemes, that every man wants to sculpt us, in order to take the credit.

Veil me, or else I will fall to dust before you when the truth is revealed.

I love you, but you abduct me from myself.

When you write me, you expose my cruelty. So you set me behind the veil of fiction, as many do with many others.

To hold the mirror up to yourself, is all you wanted. Veil me as an act of kindness.

I am no longer a part of this. I do not lack, I do not miss. I take up my own veil.

Love.

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