Life, Love, Poetry, Spirituality


This poem was inspired by (and co-created with), a friend who wishes to remain anonymous. It’s about what causes us to become marked, both inside and out, and what that means to who we are.


© 2019 punkie



childhood tumbles
and pre-teen fumbles;
teenaged mishaps and
grown-up face slaps:

these scratches and scrapes
fixed with stitches and tape
leave marks we can see
on heads, hands and knees

but wounds that are deeper
are like the grim reaper
they reside in a dark
unplumbed part of our heart

the loss of a lover,
we can never recover
or living a lie
for fear of saying goodbye

the scars from these cuts
abide in our guts
untouched and unseen
in the flesh of our spleen

as we live we are scarred
’til our skin becomes marred
and our inner selves bleed
with the depth of our needs

still, the perfection we seek
is in strong turned to weak
in the bits that are broken
and the hurts left unspoken


© 2019 Susan Macaulay . I invite you to share my poetry and posts widely, but please do not reprint, reblog or copy and paste them in their entirety without my permission. Thank you.


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