Scarred Memories

by Anne Moore   Jan 15, 2020


The scars are fading
After four months they are almost gone
Almost like tiny scratches on a windowpane

And I don't know why
It makes me want to recreate
NOT the cuts
NOT the memories
Just the scars

The cuts aren't allowed
Even though they hurt less doing
Then some of the memories
I live with

The memories repeat
Over and over,
All on replay
No matter how hard I try to forget
They were there
In the form of scars
That are now gone

There is no proof anymore
That I hurt so bad
Except the dead brain cells
And the faint pink lines
Apon my thighs
And the even fainter line
From that one time

I swear it was only practice
But that morning I did want to die
That morning just a year ago
I sat in my own blood bath fully clothed
And the only one who ever knew
Was you

but you never told anyone

    report violation
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Latest Comments

  • 4 years ago

    by Poet on the Piano

    Anne, I connected with this piece in so many ways.

    Thank you for sharing these parts of yourself, especially the parts that hurt the most. I understand so much how there is a desire to still have that proof. Because, even if things may be better in our lives, or certain situations are remedied, we still hear and feel and re-live certain memories. They scar us in different ways.

    I once heard it explained that we seek to make the hurt on the inside, visible on the outside. And I felt understood in that way. Validation is such a huge thing. To be heard, to be acknowledged. Even to know that someone else saw the severity of the thoughts in our mind and told someone else because they were worried, because they saw the hold of depression on us. To have someone see how hard we are trying, that even with scars fading (as I have some too), it doesn't mean everything is suddenly wiped away.

    Lots of <3

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