C’est la vie

Free Verse

Photo by Aline de Nadai on Unsplash

Time flows, scars fade;
we forget the bad things,
even the good ones
are occasionally remembered.

Even if the wound closed up
and the blood ceased to seep
the second the knife was withdrawn
from the flesh,

the sharp, cold steel of the blade
would still bite.
Not the scabs, the marks
nor the blood loss, the bruises

– what really etched in our minds
and torturing, blinding us
like an eternally blazing, searing sun
is the trauma, the memory of pain

we carry underneath our skin,
in our tear glands, through our veins,
one bright suffering that
never goes dim.

Time flows, the body heals,
but cast by the brain, the magic spell
of easily, swiftly, willingly slipping
into re-living

the aches belong to the past
rest within.
So, it is not okay for you
to hurt me repeatedly,