Where the Scars Don’t Show

Jessica Scott gives a poem of a special sort of pain.

The Well Tempered Bards

desolacion

Red screams fill my blue skies,

Anguish overflows these tortured eyes.

In my world of truth

There’s a river of hurt left by you.

Cut me, and I bleed down to the bone,

Stitched-up heart with broken-glass hope.

Leave me here upon that desolate shore,

To live, to love, nevermore.

Let the ravens come now and pick me dry,

No more living in a world built on your lies.

Beyond love’s desire-colored veil,

Beyond your reach, there I will dwell.

*I always say that words have power…and some words are meant to cut deep. I’ve found that, once the invisible “blood” has dried, there’s an emptiness, a hollowness, a numbness that descends upon you. Whether it’s a respite for healing or simply limbo until the next verbal offense comes, I don’t yet know. But that’s where you can find me tonight.

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