Lying on an operating table,
the anesthetic takes me
while a scalpel is ready at my chest.
I’m living for the chance to see
arms wrapped around a stranger,
people smile and glimpse each other’s hearts
where their irises meet their pupils,
veins and arteries entangle
for heart to meet heart,
blood mingle with blood,
stitches dissolve into skin
leaving a scar to tell the story;
to see something left to tell a story
at all.
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