She left a scar on my soul.
It was once angry, raw and raised.
A livid mark leaking with salty tears.
On bad days it seeped blood.
I tested it in the places we used to go.
I probed it with the music we shared,
I distressed it with my poetry.
I tortured it with memories.
Now it has healed to a pale,
indifferent, fading stain.
It is in the shape of her smile.
I wear it with the other scars.
Like a proud tattoo.
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