It started to make sense,
These lines on my arms--
"and the lines on your legs..."

When Jessica told me of a time
When she was younger,
When she used to do crafts
With her mother...

"When mother looked away,
With the hot glue gun I'd play,
Burning the tips of my fingers,
Enjoying the feel of its sting."
I tell her that when I was younger,
"I did the same thing!"

She nods her head and giggles,
And whispers "*I know.
You and I were much closer,
A long time ago."