STITCHES

The wound

he gave me

didn't last long.

I wish he got me a

scar rather than just

a scratch,

So that on days

when he isn't around,

I can look and cherish

his presence in his absence.

Maybe,

he wanted to tell

that scars

are not always on the skin

but could be living

alive eternally

In the soul's realm,

Like him dancing

On my mind

making me realise

that missing

bears the burden of tears with it.