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deeper

of scars
all but faded
the beginning is lost –
no reminder is left
of the pain
of stories we started
forgotten us now
were given us choice
to remain

more than a few
are sealed within lies –
a place I was going
when fell by the way
given to truth
I thought would oblige
souvenirs kept
with the blade

crisscross
remember –
threads into silk
moments reweaved
by their coming apart
letters have worked their way
into skin –
scars running clean
to the heart

. . .