Splinter.

You are a biologic carcinogen.

You left splinters under my skin. They don’t hurt most of the time, but when I run my fingers over their grooves they still send electric shocks through my ribcage.

You buried roots in my coronary vessels. I get angina at the mention of your name or the thought of you and it drops a weight on my chest and it feels like I can’t breathe.

You spread hematogenously.  I can feel your metastases weighing down my bones and crowding out the marrow cavities. They ache a lot at night.

You left a scar. It’s small, barely noticeable by anyone. Like a plump nodule hiding behind a clavicle, quietly heralding systemic disease.

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