The problem with
Soft hands, is that
Unlike soft hearts, they
Bleed freely
On being bruised.

And…
Out of habit,
You rummage into the medicine box
For a band-aid.

It settles cautiously,
Unassumingly,
Clumsily,
On your hurts –
Gaping and mauled and proud –
A tranquilizer
To obnoxious accidents.
An anesthetic
To foolish mistakes…

***

I would rather be the mishap, though,
And leave a mark…

(Like a fossil,
A memoir,
A scar.

Stay on…)

…Instead of the makeshift skin
You have me reduced to…

***

 

This, from an over-sensitive soul –
I’m tired of being that band-aid.

 

6 July 2017

(image courtesy: http://according2g.com/tag/band-aid-art/)

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