I sometimes feel your fingernails digging deep into my scars, as if to claw out the darkness inside and to find it’s roots, then root it out and plant orange zinnias there with kisses. Sometimes it’s just a soft touch at the nape of my neck, where I’ve hidden the last of my innocence. So very innocent like a child with only two teeth. I hope you never find that child.

You have always known that my heart is a sparrow trapped in an abandoned tower, who knows the tower way too much, who has studied each and every one of the paintings in it’s wall and is not afraid to spread it’s wings and touch, each one of the cracks in those whispering walls and who is painfully waiting for the walls to fall down so that it can escape the tower, which even the dragons has abandoned. But if the tower falls down the sparrow dies. That’s the end.

The only place in my body without scars, is my heart. That is because scars are wounds that are healed and the wounds in my heart still stays afresh, hence there are no scars. And that’s why I never let anyone touch it, not even love. You can claw at my scars as much as you want but not my wounds, because it hurts and I am still alive, therefore I’m afraid you can still hurt me and I’m afraid I might let you. Because love does that to me you see! You don’t believe me, then look at my heart.



Β©The Rendezvous Club 2019

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41 thoughts on “Scars

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