Sorrow left its fingerprints on you. It always does, doesn’t it?
Sorrow’s fingerprints
Cover my arms,
My neck, my back,
My heart.
I have bruises
That Sorrow gave me
But they don’t fade
Away
Like bruises usually do.
Sorrow’s bruises stay,
A distant aching,
That you no longer
Even know that you feel.
Until you press it.
