Scars

by Christopher Raley

 

Somewhere in the space

between those in the room,

between empty chairs

for measured closeness

you are there.

 

Somewhere in the time

between then and now

and now and later

the mind wrestles

with you there.

 

I speak to you but

I do not see you.

I know your name but

I’ve not shook your hand.

 

Will you still have scars

when someday we meet?

I don’t need to see them.

 

I just thought, as friends,

all those empty times,

those spaces, those chairs

might seem in hindsight

 

less awkward, less pained

knowing you too

still carry

your wounds.

 

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