It was a wound,
A wound that healed
but left a scar:
So dim, hardly observable,
But it was there.
I walked around with pride,
I was healing inside,
But there was a dim painting
On my heart.
Each line represented a moment of 'oh, that hurts'.
But I was moving on.
There was a burden,
Sitting by me -
Not hovering on my back
As we managed to be friends
For a while.
I was sitting, observing my hands -
There was once a scar there;
It was now gone.
I put my hand on my heart,
To check an old wound:
It was gone,
But so was the last beat -
Of my heart.