Scabs

His anger, at first like an

Open wound,

Scabbed over in time but

Remained red hot inside.

It clotted,

Dark red and brown

Mixing like a dangerous potion.

When hard crusts formed on its edges,

His anger was almost forgotten.

"It's for protection," she would say.

I nodded and looked away.

Finally, when it broke and

Anger oozed from his every pore,

I looked at her again.

The open wounds were hers.

#poetry #angry #wounds