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Cutting Scars.
Sickening souvenirs of past times.
Memories, not written in stone,
But in skin.
White scars upon pale rose skin,
Reminders of the fighting, the tears, the hurt.
Never to be forgotten, never to be healed.
The blood has been washed away,
The tears dried.
Yet they remain etched in flesh.
And there they shall stay,
Death will not even let us part.
I like this one a lot. The lines 'Memories, not written in stone, But in skin.' has a large significance to me personally as i rather enjoy recalling where i got the various scars that adorn my person. Each one seeming to tell a tale of its own creation and leaving a lasting impression such as your poems have done to me. Fantastic ^_^.
This poem touched me deeply. I've been here countless times, especially recently. Touching poem. Well done.
*hugs*
-C.J.