Why must my heart feel what my flesh can't?
If love was only skin deep
we could cover it with bandages
to entomb ourselves like those of the past.
Wrap the cloth tightly around my eyes
so I can't see the love
that hath blinded me.
Waiting and wondering,
apprehensive of what may be
reveled to me. Will the wounds
have healed? But alas the flesh has healed
and my heart to be forever broken.
