My fingers curl around the

knob as I look at the doctor

one more time. My fingertips

trace her pale skin; she

smiles weakly and the touch

makes her head shiver and spin.

Around and 'round

my fingers begin swirl on her cold

skin.

My eyes scream

as I notice her scars.

Each bursting red. Each

withering her away.

I want to say, "Tell me about this one;

the one that's so deep

from the touch of the

fears and tears you weep," yet

I can't. And I won't if I had

the chance.