To Wear Our Scars?

INK AND QUILL

There is a scar
that covers about three inches of skin
on soft tissue,
just above your breast,
it runs a jagged line
it reminds me of a flower vine
creeping up your neck,
faded in time
a silver tattoo left,

Does it feel different on the tongue?
I run my lips across the serrated point
Quickening with every lick,
Each mark holds a depth untold
I feel a beating pulse within –
more than just a hollow organ;
a heart of its own
flowing in feelings.

This scar that is visible
carried upon your chest
weighing too heavy
for you to undress
like a photograph –
a moment never forgotten.
A permanent welt.
A visible form.

If the scar wasn’t there to remind you?
Could you forget it?

Thoughts

It’s been on my mind –the idea of a scar. We all have scars. Some are visible, some hidden and…

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