That wound, the
one you choose to hide,
will always be there.
come weeks,
come years,
come even decades.
It's scar will always remain.
Jagged on the palm of
your sleeve,
it may fade with
time
but it will always
be.
Forever ready to be
rubbed raw,
scarlet blood weeping
once again.

We all carry a scar
such as this.
It is a first and so,
it is the deepest.
The beginning of an
individual pattern.
It will sit there
ready,
waiting to bring again
your heart onto
your sleeve.

First love,
Pure love,
No more.

It will always be present.