A poem for all the scars tired of not being able to rest in the peace they deserve.
The thought of you still keeps me up at night.
Oftentimes this memory in particular.
You held -no- gripped my scars in your hand, almost angry they were ever there in the first place. Your gaze locked on me, you pulled me close and I’ve never felt safer. I collapsed my chin onto your shoulder and let my heavy head rest and the salty tears flow. I felt like I could finally allow myself to breathe in your arms.
I still remember what you said in that boat.
Little did I know, you’d later dig up the same knife used to create those scars, the knife I thought we buried together, the knife I once thought I’d never see again, only to use it against me and reopen those very scars you once resented – to cut even deeper.
Right before my eyes my safest place on your shoulder had become the loneliest place of all, unrecognizable. Yet you still had that same gaze as you did the first time, only it garnered a feeling of numbness in me now, instead of the love and comfort I once felt when met with those eyes.
I stil remember what you said in your driveway.
And they say I’ll trust again. And they say the scars will heal.