脫臼

有些愛，不是斷裂，而是錯位。明明還連著，卻再也回不到正確的位置。 我們在一張餐桌前坐下，像兩個假裝沒事的人，輪流把前任的痕跡端上來——衣服、鑰匙、卡片還有那些說不出口的傷。 擁抱是借位的，佔有是錯位的，每一次靠近，都像把早就脫臼的心，再拉扯一次。 我們學會用痛止痛，用寂寞冰敷寂寞。不是不知道會復發，只是沒人真的想痊癒。 到最後，不是不會痛了，只是越來越習慣忍痛。 Some love doesn’t break, it slips out of place. Still attached, just never aligned again. We sit across a table, two strangers pretending we’re fine, taking turns laying our exes between us. Clothes, keys, notes, and the injuries we never learned how to name. Every hug is borrowed. Every claim is misplaced. Every step closer, pulls the joint apart all over again. We numb pain with pain, ice loneliness with more loneliness. We know it’ll relapse. We just don’t believe in healing anymore. In the end, it’s not that it hurts less We’re simply better at enduring it.