enough, enough
you pull the skin back on my arms and reveal an intricate web of scars mapping constellations of freckles that never formed on the surface, secretly you justify i like the imperfections, and you continue edging your way up and down my spine on your hands and knees finding every fleshly memory and i ask of you, what now? what is it that you seek? you don’t even waste the breath to answer me, instead remembering the time when we were only eighteen and nineteen sitting in your truck and you watched me show you every scar like a map of my perceived misfortunes. as ubruptly as you entered i make you leave until i am alone so i can watch the scar engulf your scab on my arm.
i just wish this blood i bled for you was enough.