Be careful*
when you hold my hand.
Please?
As much as my winter-bitten lips refuse to say
"I am fragile."
Don't worry, spring will kiss them.
Between my wrist and fingertips, bear a gossamer web of time's sewing, see that criss-cross there, yes, it's still mending.
Little threads of fine, fine alchemy.
Above all, be very careful & wide-eyed
with my heart.
The space between my ribs and my white heart painted red
bears
old, old scars
that never quite
closed
to
s l e e p.
Creased memories still peek-a-boo here & there
before
threads and thin lines of time seam them away.
It is scary, I know.
But, I promise,
I'll do the same for you, sweet-heart.
Hi Hi Hi!
Hope you enjoy this little nonsensical writing!
x