No healing for her scar She doesn’t even remember the story It’s just a mark on her body To represent the past Of which she can’t change Or remember Because it’s easier If she were to touch it She’d know why it’s there She’s know where it came from And I remember It’s from him He fell into her heart And left a mark Then she picked it apart Till it bled Even after he left She picked away And now there is a scar I saw it all happen I felt it too But I don’t want to remember
Sometimes old wounds never heal, they scar and remain with us forever. We might see them from time to time and try to remember where they came from. Or sometimes we know exactly where they came from but chose to forget. And sometimes the scars are the only memento we have left to remind us, to prove it happened. Sometimes these scars are on the surface of our skin for anyone to see. And sometimes they are buried within, in our mind, in our heart. That is what this poem is about. Those scars.