These memories may thaw but
they refuse to melt away —
stubborn stains impervious to
my meticulous clawing.
Blankets and band-aids cover scars
but the scorn burns — contempt
for what was and won’t be.
We lack agency in our most
chilling moments, coughing
against whatever fate has consigned
to us (Did I cough when
you left? That particular
memory escapes me) futilely
clutching a blanket for warmth.
Phillip Knight Scott | © 2019
Written for Free Verse Revolution October Writing Prompt #4 : scars
Often Mumbled Musings 
Love this one. An ntwrwsting take on scars
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Thanks so much, blind and zany gal!
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You’re welcome. And yes, definitely the Zeny LOL
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Omg loveee this. Its deep and a fabulous read
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Thanks so much!
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Love this! ❤️
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Thanks 🙂
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Engrossing write
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I see some Raw pain in this one. Hugs. Sometimes… People do not know the cost of a poem.
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