scars.

SCARS

The scars screamed just to find a pinch of relief from somewhere…from somewhere? From him.

They were wounded. They bled. Torn apart.

“The marks human leave are too often scars,” she contemplated.

The scars were her stories. History written somewhere on her.

No panacea could heal them. No tear drops could comfort them.

They were deep scars on her frangible heart where only he could reach.

Reviews

[Teja]

Heart is the too fragile . And each scar has a story. The pain with which poem is written is evident . Nicely written. Good one