writing: you are just a scar

bandaids come in all shapes and sizes

each perfectly tailored to conceal a wound

situated over broken flesh

and sealed at the corners

each bearing a story

and i must sit on my hands

and remember, "don't touch." 

"you. must. not. touch."

the temptation begs distraction

there were the same warning signs

and the subtleties between the lines

the ones that only i knew

almost like you saved them, just for me

and, for a moment,

there was you

in raw form

untainted

and all i could think was,

"i should have known you then."

but now

the feel of adhesive on my skin

and the taste of resolve between my teeth

are the strongest sensations i have

and, tucked inside the details,

a growing confidence

that one day, my hands won't be tied

and you will be just a scar

that i can run my thumbs over

and think

"this doesn't hurt me anymore."