She smoothed the band-aid across his heart,

fingertips hesitant as an awkward first kiss.

And all the while,

he held his breath,

the pain of her touch

overwhelming the wound.

She advised him to get sutures,

avoid an infection,

as if their love

had festered contagion.

Without a goodbye,

she rode out on a death sentence.

Later that night,

alone with insomnia,

he ripped off the band-aid,

bled her name in the sheets.

Copyright 2017