Scar (Poetry)

She is the scar that will not fade —
stays vivid — fails to heal
the cut too deep and ragged — edges won’t
stay stitched together ’til they hold
and whiten to a thinned-out memory.

My skin cannot forget
the knife that sliced it through
so relives its pain and bleeds some more
despite the years of careful bandages
the blameless antiseptic salve.

That sudden spurt of blood is a relief sometimes
the throbbing vein some proof
I’ve more to give
while old wounds disappear
hers is fresh — still killing — feels like new.