I met a guy.
He’s not my husband, but I met a guy.
He’s charming but hard,
not a thug hard—I can see right through that shit.
It’s the kind of hardness that has walls up due to past hurts.
I gravitate to such trauma because I have the same layers.
I see right through it, I met a guy,
he needed layers peeled away.
I have the same wounds, and I’m sure he saw it.
S…