Too Close

When you get close to me, do you see the regrets traced across my body?
They wind through the top layers of my skin like dried-up rivers on a faded map

When you touch them, the waters start to flow down the empty canyons.
The dust surrounding the banks grows green and fresh. 

The wildlife revives and nestles into the protective mud. 
Life blooms. 

With that comes predators,
Lurking in the shadows of the foliage,
Mouths filled with heat and sharp

With that comes rot and decay,
Penetrating through the dark soil
Poisoning the bright water 

So when you see my rivers of regrets traced across my skin,
Just pretend they are scabs and scars instead. 
Better left alone and not picked at.