Scars
She ran her fingers across my skin,
counting my scars as if they were legal tender.
I thought about the moment when skin
breaks apart, when life has a chance
to escape its cage.
I think she could see it in my eyes,
because her touch became a violent rush,
her nails hungry for the burst of
what was wrought between us.
And so, I bled for her;
Staining her hunger with the rage of scars
she couldn’t see.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.
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