how come no one talks about
the skin ripped off with the bandaid? 
the sudden surmounting pain
that makes your knowing eyes well
like two glistening puddles
 
we picked at adhesive edges
until they curled over time,
neither of us wanting to 
rip, yank, tear, jerk
at our frayed lifeline
 
the wounds are still fresh,
now simply uncovered,
exposed to the elements,
collecting dirt, bacteria and hurt
stinging to your tentative touch
 
if only we could stick together
like stitches woven in skin,
fusing flesh hearts into one,
but we wielded the scalpel 
and both wept as our blood dripped.