The Hurting

I was searching for someone to
trace my history through
fingerprint and dermal imperfection.

We would read the scars on one another’s
bodies like Braille; telling
the stories of our hurts and
those who cut and carved into our memories.
Seldom forgiven;
never forgotten.

A blind hope we wouldn’t be doing the
same damn thing in a couple of
years with other lovers;
telling them about the
last time we allowed ourselves to
be vulnerable, and the
hurting that followed.

by Erik Shinker