reduced to just a discoloured line in the epidermis of your melanin-clad undertones
an old bruise; stale, ignored and healing
as old as it looks to you
the same emotions come bubbling upwards each time I look at it
how you had carefully taped it with affection
bickering and ranting on about how careless I could possibly be
as stale as it might look to you
it looks just as fresh to me as when you told me
you’ll only learn to stand, when you’ve fallen hard enough
your words echo in my ears like a never-ending science experiment
as conveniently as others might ignore it
you never did
you were proud that I wasn’t afraid to fall,
proud that I wore these bruises like makeup on a 17 year old
but im still healing
still healing from the scar that you’ve left within
way under the layers of the epidermis
way beyond the places bandages and plasters can heal
you left a scar I don’t think I can ever heal from
it’ll always be in the same tense
continually trying to heal
to recover
from the scars that were too deep for others to see
