skin heals
and so does
the heart
sometimes
but one tells
more truth about its progress
one stands right
in your stare
while the other talks
all sorts of softlys
or sharp-- go aways--
that may tell nothing
of what lays under
scars that show
tell time
scars that hide
live random lives
generally long
and full
bites
may be nothing more
than a blanket
on past hurts
holding warm
and protected
wounds
still sore
and cold
no look
can tell me
all of how well you are
nor you
all of me