Friday, December 24, 2004


you say,
"i love you
but your wound stinks.
let me pry the scab open
for you;
let me heal it."

i wince and say,
"no please.
it is healing fine."

you insist,
"but i love you.
your wound stinks.
i hate the smell.
let me heal it."

i raise my voice and say,
i am not ready.
i know it stinks.
but i am not ready.
just let it be."

still you persist,
"but i love you
don't you see?
your wound stinks.
i don't like your stinky wound.
if you want
to be with me
let me heal it."
and you keep prying it
until it bleeds

now i scream:
stop it!"

but my wound
opened wide
cuts bigger and deeper
this time--
and it just bleeds,
and bleeds
and bleeds
and bleeds
and bleeds...

now you say:
"i love you,
but i can't take
that bloody
stinking wound."

and they say
love is kind?

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