✒
Send “✒” and my muse will tell yours the story behind one of their scars.
Accepting: You are an Asshole, but you are My asshole.
Verse: Wolf Inside
@viperwrought
The phrase ‘TIME HEALS ALL WOUNDS’ doesn’t exist, sometimes the wound heals but TIME never comes. So you slowly get used to seeing the scars, until one day you are sitting with the person you love laughing and enjoying life, but TIME never came. So your sitting there laughing right and then the air changes, and you feel it coming in your gut like a EARTH QUAKE only you can feel. So you brace your self for it, for the question you knew was going to come one day because TIME didn’t.
So you’re sitting there bracing your self against a door that should never be opened and you really wanna open it now because why not? TIME never came and it’s like ripping off a god damn bandaid. But you know what TIME does then? TIME is a dick, like that one kid in school that CONSTANTLY bothered you but you didn’t do anything about it because you where nice, yeah TIME is like him, and it stops. TIME stops and stares at you with a wide joker like smirk as if telling you. ‘I never healed your wounds, but I’ll freeze the world to make you feel the knife marks all over again.’
So there you are with your love of your life and you sit there, toying with your hair like that is your rosary and you’re not coming out alive. Then you speak, TIME stood still, TIME was a dick, TIME is now going to heal your wounds.
Or maybe it’s the person in front of you, the soft touch to your arm, like you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want you, but you do, you do so bad that you are white knuckling that rosary and you choke down air like you are dying. So you talk and TIME, god damn tricky TIME act’s like your fucking friend and fast forwards, like that button on your remote. Then it’s over and you feel lighter. TIME was a dick, but it had its purpose in healing your wounds. So you rewind and play it from the part again where you talked, and suddenly, TIME is staring at you with love and so is the person in front of you. And for once you aren’t scared to open that door.
“Lovci, hunters, they held me in a cage for centuries, they’d come at night and as I changed back they pumped me full of silver and wolfsbane and hoped I’d die on them, but it burned and seared the scars to my skin. A witch my brother knew took them away, at least dimmed them on my skin, the puncture marks where they embedded needles into my skin.” It was a grouping of four needles on her arm, a star like formation. TIME didn’t heal her wounds, but they did. The person in front of her did, the love of her life, Io.
