This morning
In the hot
Oily water of the tub
She touched
The scars on my back
Where my wings
Used to be.
She rubbed her hands
On my neck
And shoulders
Pressing deeper
Into my trapezius muscles
Moving down my spine
With her firm thumbs
Buttery warm water
Running back down
Into the porcelain lagoon.
With such soft fingers
She focused
On the scars
Not saying a word
Softly massaging
The raised
Faint red tissue.
I could feel her
Giving me everything
That she had
Inside.
No words were spoken.
Yet
It was a conversation
Beyond compare.
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