The Scars on His Heart

By: Nicole Yeo

He sits on the steps,

head in his heart.

Away from the hatred,

there’s time to start.

He thinks about loneliness, isolation, and love.

He thinks about friendship and hope from above.

A giant mass of muscle,

his heart pulses and throbs,

while he sits on the steps,

sits and sobs.

He can feel the pain,

heart thrashing and keening,

each laceration a heavy burden

that has its own meaning.

The only moment of peace

is alone in his backyard.

Music from his earbuds

touches what’s marred.

Each melody and flow,

absorbed by his heart,

drenching each injury,

reaching every part.

The surface starts moving,

heart stitching together,

every new song

smoothing texture of leather.

The scars on his heart

are, at last, disappearing

as he sits on the steps,

eyes no longer tearing.

The harmful words

fade to the back of his mind,

pushed away by the words

that are sung and rhymed.