Burned

The scorch of the Sun

is burning shards of

memories into my skin.

I pick at them

inspite of myself.

Charred pieces, falling away,

revealing wounds 

seeping sorrowful tears

for trust lost.

The vulnerable pink of  my skin 

is shiny and new.

Protecting me,

from the outside in.

Want to nurse it

from the inside out.

My spirit's soft tourniquet

drinks up the liquid life.

Drawing it back,

into me

under the shimmery Moon.

Revealing silver scars eternal.

By Andrea Kaldy

December 2009