Scars

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

10 thoughts on “Scars

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