hearts sink
swole, swollen, sore
thoughts sting like stickers
like bee stings
i breathe to reduce the redness
sticking to a tricky thought
searching for truth in the goo
if i washed my hands
would i wash them of you?
this fear of loss is wet and
mold grows round' the edges
so old, i barely notice it now
until there's something new-
this time it's you
i know i'm prone
to hurt myself
and time will tell
if my hurts are healed
but you can't take on my pain
