On Hold for a While

You smear your thumbs across my face
Saying it’ll get better
It’ll get better, Molly
But your fingerprints are rubbing me raw
I can’t keep up
Can’t heal
You whisper
Gently, like ice wrapped in blankets
Hold it there, that’s it
I want to
I have
But you’re realizing my coo floats to croaking
And I am aging
And you can’t keep up
You can’t keep up with me
Draw your last memory of me
Smear your blackened fingerprints across my charcoal face
In the world of paper, sun damaged blossoms
It can’t get better
But it won’t get worse
Spring’s here
Move on with it
We’ll catch up soon