Moonlight and Thorns

Maybe sometimes healing hurts

Maybe the thorny vines of the past

Intertwine with your arms and legs

To draw warm, red blood from your scars


Maybe memories do not just leave marks

But create fresh wounds. There to say you

Can’t get better. And maybe when memories

Meet moonlight a chemical, no– physical,


No– spiritual reaction takes place and what

Was energy crumbles to dust. The light soaks

Into your fingerprints and helps you to forget.

You touch your own heart and the scars don’t


Fade but are painted with moments of peace

Until you remember the vines, and the thorns,

The very thought makes them snake up from the

Ground, latching onto your skin, they wound,


You cry. The universe plays a tug of war and

You are caught between past hurt and new light

Wounds can be addictive. Scars are proof that

The memories are real. The past is relentless


It corners you with familiar scents and Instagram

Photos. While the moonlight slips in in silence

It tiptoes between cracks in your curtains and rests

Beside your pillow, healing you in dreams–in moments of peace.





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