bandage raze on the last day you were still you, i watched you use the back of a silver sister as a springboard to get to a pew that would never see the inside of any church, where you ate above the swarm. the wound you gave me after you lost your way took less time to heal than i wanted it to. when it was gone, you were too. the band-aid i used to cover the torn skin was the last one in the box. i can't bring myself to throw away the cardboard case, or the empty paper wrapper that held the flexible fabric i wrapped around my middle finger. i don't dream of you anymore. but every night i hope i will. i don't know if my sleeping mind is sparing me from something worse than losing you, or punishing me for a promise my heart made that my hands couldn't keep. when i'm awake, i talk to you. i think you've been talking back. and i'm grateful for that. but a leak has sprung in a place no occlusive dressing can touch. and i don't know how to make it stop. 221103 what's it to you? who go blather from