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
I stare at these welt in fake wood
if they’re indicative of more than accident,
un-clarity of thought
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.
are they simply a mistake.