Welts of fake wood…

I stare at the burns in my counter.

Burns left by you;

swollen, welts of desire

a desire to burn

three bubbly burns

making a circle if traced with your finger

two big, one small

not very badly you said

on the phone

I could hear the uncertainty

knew… they would be worse

than depicted.

I stare at these welt in fake wood

wonder …

if they’re indicative of more than accident,

un-clarity of thought

wonder…

if the message is one of futuristic values

like the guy who smashed my car

who’s ego wanted to smash me later

is this you?

is this why you burned my counter top?

are they foreshadowing

the scar you’ll leave on my heart.

or…

are they simply a mistake.

 

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2 thoughts on “Welts of fake wood…

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