The skin finally spoke to the skeleton:
“The truth never reached the heart,
it only bruised the surface
purple memories, too heavy to hold,
too fleeting to remember.”

“But did it reach you?”
the skeleton asked,
“Did it leave you the way it left me?”

The skin hesitated,
as if the healing could never erase
what it had become.

And the skeleton whispered,
“I carry the cracks.
What broke you
is still bleeding in me."