A fingernail. Sliding aside the stitches,
And
Plunging into the flesh of a freshly healed
Wound.
Seeing you brings soaring to the surface
Blood.
Not yet fully congealed,
The pain pried open once again,
A wound thought buried for good,
Now rushes to the forefront
Of a broken memory.
Questions?
With no answers
Are the hardest to ask.
Why?
And
How?
Fists with a cry and a howl.
Fingertip stinking under,
Picking open the scab to let
The wound fester anew,
As if no healing had ever
Happened in the first place.

Fresh blood licked away.
The quivering at the thought,
that time does not, indeed,
heal all.

Seeing you,
A smile and a nod
is all that is mustered.
This wound,
You inflicted,
Will never heal.