i see the bandaids on your fingers
and i can't help but wonder
what wounds heal beneath them
it makes me want to know you more
to unravel those tiny mysteries
and allow them to create the bigger
mysteries that encompass who you are
what do you wish for on shooting stars?
that scar, on your shoulder, how'd it get there?
and when you're sitting outside, in the sunshine,
smiling quietly, what are you thinking of?
but i'll start with the bandaids, peel them back
kiss the cut and hold your hand tenderly in mine.
that cut, there on your finger, what happened there?