I saw your picture on Instagram. I saw your scarred knees.
Does anyone else know why they're scarred? Did you tell them what you did for me?
How the sidewalk was chilled with ice? How my heels were 3 inches too high for me to walk anymore?
How I told you not to carry me but you swooped me up anyway? You carried my bridal style but we didn't quite make it to the doorway did we?
I told you that you'd slip and that we'd both end up falling. I told you so.
We laughed at your bloody knees and I bandaged them, but they never really healed.
Neither did I.
Now your knees are scarred and I wonder if you look down at them and remember that night.
I wonder if you remember how my fingers felt in your hair how my arms felt around your neck.
Because I remember.
You were the one who took the fall and you were the one with the bloody knees but somehow I left with deeper scars.