I want to place my lips upon your scar
and let them linger there until they know
the shape, the depth of everything you are,
to bear a mark that shows and doesn’t show.
I want to feel the pulse that’s deeper still,
that feeds the living mark upon your skin.
And with my lips reveal the living will
that wants to be let out, to be let in.
I want my kiss to be a healing touch
whenever it is pressed upon the place
of opening and closing, very much.
In this would be my everything, my grace.
And when the moment comes, when it is clear
I’ll bathe your scar with just one single tear.