I have a mark. A scar. Right above my heart, left by an amazing person who didn’t see that I was wounded. For the longest time I wasted away my days finding any hope that there could be a repair to what we had. I continuously discovered i just kept reopening what had been closed, and again I began to bleed. This cycle repeated itself over and over and over again. Feelings of weakness, hurt, and loneliness lurked everywhere and I couldn’t help but hold my throbbing chest and cry. It was torn open and I just wanted it to heal. I can feel the ruffage of newly bound skin deep within my chest and I can still remember that person I once knew so well. I always smile and drift into my thoughts for awhile, just to have a quick reminisce. The scar is rigid and beautiful and I wear it proudly, but I have to keep it concealed. The memories are wonderful and so were we, but I’m finally ready to simply let it be.