You come to me
gushing
words tumble off tongue
as blood from wounds.
Tears cascade,
rolling with the words sobbed out.

You come to me
for warmth. I take
your sorrow and smother it
in my bosom and let you melt
into my heart.

You come to me
for tending
as I wrap your wounds
with my skin.
You insist against this.
Still I persist.

You come to me
in bruises
that pattern your flesh.
I make pictures
from the noise: Dot to dot
with the scars.

You come to me.
And I allow it.

You come to me
then leave.
As we part,
your fingertips skim
the black of my cardigan

and turn red.