I irked as milky water trickled down my knee

A sharp tinge

It burnt a bit

Seared on my flesh and underneath it

I consumed it feeling stupid

I don’t take bandages off wounds now

Because salt on wounds doesn’t help

Except when it’s soap

And you’re showering to forget it

The dry blood breaks and tingles,

Like soldiers fallen in battle,

Reveal a book of pains and desires

Disguised as pity yammer

I shouldn’t have taken the bandage out.

Now,

The water settles in my torn skin

smooth yet tumultuous,

like the concrete it scraped on.

It must be wiped by my worn towel

Not nearly as supple as before-

So, the towel scratches more

The wound is dressed now,

and I’m dressed in my jeans again.

I could’ve let it dry exposed

Au contraire, I hurt it more?