“Please just let me be the one to keep track of the freckles and the moles on your back” how you’d laugh and kiss the single mole on my back and tell me that I was useless to compare to song lyrics by your favourite band. Self deprecation appeared and my pathetic amount of exciting skin pigmentations was never enough for you and that was just the start. My finger tips a little bit too worn for you after years spent alone in my room trying aimlessly to learn to play guitar and hours spent writing poetry in throwaway books with only affection in mind. Maybe it was my bitten fingernails and how yours were always longer than mine that caused such hesitation when you held my hand, reluctantly I discovered much later on, or maybe it was the way strands of my hair would get caught between the button holes of my shirts. I just sighed. I just sighed.