Hemopheliacit was only a tiny dagger so small really a kiss in comparison to the hundreds which had cut him and which he had mocked and he had lent it to her not because he loved her which he did but he couldn't hide anything from her grasp her teeth on every toy yet beneath his scars he bled and had been bleeding and continued bleeding and would still yet continue bleeding and when she cut him yet again she could not see that now he allowed himself to feel
— iva m
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