The Scar
I have a scar on my ankle
Where I was scratched
By a twig off underbrush
When we went walking in the park
I lost my earring that day
Did you know that?
The one with purple and pink
The one that Millie gave me for my birthday
I never felt odd
Wearing it alone
Its partner
On Millie’s ear
It connected us
I wonder,
Do heart shaped purplepink earrings get lonely?
Perhaps it did
It itches, my scar
It itches straight to my insole
I want to scratch so badly
I know I shouldn’t
But sometimes
When I am talking, writing
When this me is busy
The other me,
You know, the one who only whispers
The one who dreams
The one who still loves you
Compels my right foot
To move its purple socked toe
Up and down my scar
Ever so gently
It will heal
In a week or so it will no longer itch
But I hope the scar remains
And someday
When I am old and decrepit
I will look down
At my wrinkled and frail ankle
And remember
A love that was innocent
