last night i clutched a star between the palm of my small hand and the plump inside of my fingers and i held it wedged there and it cut into my comfort ready skin.
was it me so fragile that held you too tightly or was it the immensity of your sharp edges that crawled into my epidermis and surprised my curiousity?
either way it burns and glows from the cold water in the white sink.
i haven't gone long without visiting the sink with reflections permanently behind. i peer over hoping i won't end on the note of this vain observation, but im held by the struggle to stare straight without condemning.
will this heal?

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