for someone
with a cast on their arm,
a bandage
on their head,
with crutches, limping
along,
it's hard not to hold
a door, or to help them
cross the street, or
get past the trouble
they are perpetually in.
it's hard not to be loving
and kind,
to tenderly care for
their wounds
as they begin to bleed.
you listen intently as they
spill everything
that's on their worried
minds.
i'm easy
when it comes to victims.
look it up.
it's my relationship
history.
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