pain is invisible.
It can only be felt.
Its less than sympathetic heart rewinds lost moments;
buries one deep beneath the surface.
It dances across the skin,
leaving a trail of mauve affection— why does it come?
Why can’t it be seen?
Ragged at the edges, irrelevant, forgotten
and dismissed; it marks the soul first then body follows.
Photo credits: Pinterest
Posted for Play It Again @ Real Toads