You were easy
In only the best way
December
Unlike the leppers of old we know better.
It isn't a "scarlet letter" or another work of fiction..
It is a disease.
Stories written in lines
With no words
Only lines
On her wrist
The Rain
They talk of many things
Rebirth of a soul
Resurrection of a life
Cleansing of a slate
I pay no mind to the medicinal illusions
I'm horrified at the allusions we ignore