Scars

There is a memory I am missing
From when I was not quite one
Of hot grease stains spilling and spreading,
Working their way to the bone,
Leaving necrosis and the smell of burnt baby skin,
I assume there was wailing and heartbreaking moans,
Marred tissue and my brother’s casual teenage confession
Are really the only reason I even know.

The scars still stretch, getting larger as I grow.

I'll always remember how my heart pounded,
Aspirating into my throat
As the door swung open, a man's voice behind it,
Like rusty hinges screaming down a haunted house hallway,
Shattering the moment, like steam fleeing from a shower
Through a window opened on a frozen day
As the mirror regained its purpose
Of self-reflection.

I remember how the sheets chilled,
And how my heart chilled even colder
As she left me laying under covers all alone,
Got dressed and silently left the room
Abandoned, wrapped in darkness and shame,
Condemned to hell at such a young age,
Fire and brimstone, never worthy of love again.

The scars still stretch, getting larger as I grow.

Too often I feel so completely alone,
Accepting I can give and give and never be offered a heart to call home,
I give everything I am, just hoping for some hope
But unnoticed, forgotten, unloved I feel bound in rope
Of the unrequited trope.