Wound

Wound

You are like a festering wound to me,
Weeping while waiting to be washed..
With every touch - more pain, more memory-
Hands healing , yet  hurting too...
Sad sores,
Red , raw...
You are gone but the gash remains,
Leave till later,
Later...
Time will do it's work now,
Come back later,
When all is scabbed over,
And care with cream
And comfort...
Just saying...