Faisal

I can still see the stitches,
little tiny marks that remind me
of the first time we met
and the last time I felt guilt.
This is something true:
I waited in a hospital room
staring at the yellow parts
of my thumb
and hated myself for not
being able to text you back quickly.
I found out two weeks later
that wounds to the tips of
your fingers, on the pad of your thumbs
heal rather quickly.
I found out one year later
that hearts left at trains stations didnt.
I swear I can still see the sutures
and the tiny little holes
that you once kissed and blessed whole
even though i couldn't feel it
and I pretended, just like I do now.
It's funny.
I never thought about the dangers
of loving me, never though about
words being stepping stones
and turning into boulders,
softening into slurs.
We are more than what we've become.
I swear it.
We are stars, picked from the tiniest flames
and molded into something beautiful.
We are little white flags, tattooed and
scarred  and we are little tiny bumps on a page
so that even the blind can feel our shame
and our numbness.
We are tiny little stitches
on tiny little hands
with little white flags
waving surrender.