Memories that burn

***If you self-injure, this poem could contain triggers.***

Sometimes my thighs burn when nothing’s even touching them.

My scars radiate as if the lighter were pressing down.

I run my fingers across my flesh searching for those indentations.

Each one with its own bitter memory,

10 years ago . . . 5 years ago . . . 2 years ago,

Each relapse etched into my mind.

I want to scoop them out with a spoon and throw them away,

Each tawdry moment of desperation.

Sometimes those thinned layers of skin are enough to transport me through time.

I know exactly where I was – exactly what I thought – exactly what I felt.

Scars fade and yet sometimes I feel as if they’re brand new.

I carry them in precious little boxes,

Each one its own photo album and home movie,

Preserving my shame, my despair, my darkest moments . . .

Photo Credit


5 responses to this post.

  1. Love you Dayle. Sending many hugs your way. 🙂


  2. “tawdry moment of desperation” – you describe the pain and lingering pain well here.


  3. […] a week and a half ago, I wrote and posted a poem called Memories that burn. A few nights later, I started writing something else, but I wrote it in chunks. A line here, a […]


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