My fingers curl around the
knob as I look at the doctor
one more time. My fingertips
trace her pale skin; she
smiles weakly and the touch
makes her head shiver and spin.
Around and 'round
my fingers begin swirl on her cold
skin.
My eyes scream
as I notice her scars.
Each bursting red. Each
withering her away.
I want to say, "Tell me about this one;
the one that's so deep
from the touch of the
fears and tears you weep," yet
I can't. And I won't if I had
the chance.
