Scab

Did you know that on the day we first spoke, a scab had formed between my tights and a blister on the back of my foot?

Perhaps it was a sign, because now the harder I try to detach myself from you, the more skin gets ripped away.

Nature’s plaster—leeching on my lifeblood in the guise of a healer,

But don’t they say that it’s better to rip it off quickly so not to prolong the pain?

Isn’t it so silly that I continue to wear tights, knowing that each night I must reopen the wound I spent all day trying to close–

So silly knowing that if I only allowed it to breathe, it’d have a better shot at healing.

So, for now I’m going to walk barelegged and will the sun to kiss better the blister while planting upon me ones of a different kind;

Blisters that are my own, ones that will heal in time.

Now that they can breathe–

T.T