But gifts are not supposed to ache.
They call it a gift, this thing I carry. A ribbon of waiting. A lock without a key yet turned. my virginity is a burden iv missax
Missax — that ache you left unnamed. That scar shaped like a question mark. You taught me that virginity isn't innocence. It's just unlived life crystallized into a single fragile fact. And facts, when held too long, turn to stone. But gifts are not supposed to ache