Wounded Poem by Emma Good

The truly wounded never heal.
We are merely bandaged by the commotion of everyday life.
The wound is where our mind goes when all else goes quite.
The darkness we carry within must be brought to light at times.
You are my darkness.
I drown you in the abyss of myself.
Your memory cannot die as long as I am alive.
I'd like to think that you haunt me.
But I know better.
It is I that haunt myself with thoughts of you.
Lately my soul hasn't been hurting as much for you.
I go longer periods of time without your memory.
But you still always resurface.
Will you ever dissapear?
Just like you did in the physical world?
Maybe in a day in the far off future...maybe I can say I won't see you there.