Scars

The years
Ache 
With the 
Weight of 
Remembering.
Memory sharp 
With the need to 
Forget. 
The night 
Bleeding with 
Stars, 
Weeping from
Scars in the 
Dark heart 
Of being. 
Sleep is a thing
with sharp teeth
and a vendetta
against the soft
Flesh of
Forgiveness.
I wanted absolution
But drowned myself
In limerance.

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