I saw the scar on my thumb from 

when I hit it on the bottom shelf 

while getting you chips. 

 

Such a silly way to get hurt. 

 

Still, I looked at the open wound, 

still-healing, skin 

fleshy and

pink. 

 

And I had the absurd desire to 

kiss it. 

 

To put my mouth over it and 

suck in the moment. 

A kiss, a kiss. 

 

I think the secret is 

to embrace 

the wound. 

 

To sink into the flesh and pull 

out the thorn. 

 

A kiss. 

 

A kiss. 

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