POETRY: Scars

My skin is the only thing that separates me
from the rest of the world.
I carry it along for each day’s ride.
my trusty shield,
tried and true since day one.

Without question, complaint, or even a hesitation,
it takes everything in
as I spill my coffee,
or scrape my knee,
the sting of forgotten sunscreen,
the exhaust fumes of a truck up ahead,
the judgemental glances from strangers.

These battle wounds subside over time
but the scars stay on the skin,
the imprints from each day, mostly unnoticed,
will be there forever.
It’s the same skin, after all—
a neat little package
And the perfect protection.

Until that certain thing,
maybe a song
or smell
wanders by.
It catches me (and my skin) off guard.

And tears at an old scar until it gapes,
Reminding me exactly,
of the way you touched me.