Moon scar

I will carry with me always,
that crescent shaped cut on my foot
and I will remember what it felt like
to feel lighter than dust
and float through the air.
When it turns into a scar
I will kiss it goodnight
like a scene from a bad movie.
And I will see your face when I close my eyes,
and my heart will shake
and my skin will prickle
as I feel a finger move up and down my spine.
And I can't help myself when I let a smile slip out
or a laugh burst from my rusty lungs
when you strut across my mind
like you own the joint.
Every thought of you is a souvenir
I package up and ship home to
be there
when I get back from a long day.