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Helen
Poems
Nov 2015
scars
I feel the itch,
I try not scratch
scratches can heal themselves
cuts are not the answer
especially cuts made
by someone else
picking at the scabs
only creates a scar
now I only wonder
briefly
where you are
pick, pick, pick
scratch, scratch, scratch
you're just a memory
of an unwelcome rash
I run my hands
upon my skin
and try to exorcise
foreign anomalies
That would be
the traces of
your fingertips
which I continue
to feel upon me
pick, pick, pick
scratch, scratch, scratch
you're just a scar, upon my skin
I wish you were just a memory
Written by
Helen
nowhere special
(nowhere special)
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