This pain is like the scar tissue

of my needle drawn hand

the holes heal over

but the lump lingers

just below the surface

and in my catching throat

how can it still hurt this much

when the words we shared

were so often as sharp as those needles

that poke my skin and seek my blood

my sugar levels rise and my head bows

staring at the hand you held

when you whispered those words that stung

and lingered on your breath like

the scar tissue forming in my heart