Time will heal wounds ???

That tired old adage, "Time will heal all wounds"? 

Please. 

It whispers a lie as sweet as rust on a blade.

We carry a tapestry of scars, don't we? 

Etched from childhood's cruel games, the adolescent heart

breaks that felt like the world's end, the splintering of families, the brutal severing of ties. 

Each a unique masterpiece of pain that every soul, at some point, has worn.

Forget their generic "wounds." Let's talk about mine. 

My collection is… substantial. And right now, the spotlight's on the crimson stain left by love.

Five years have bled by since the cleaver of divorce split my world.

I'd almost convinced myself the phantom aches were gone, the landscape finally smooth. 

Almost.

Then he arrived – a fleeting comet, perhaps only I saw the tail of. 

And now? 

Now the old gashes throb anew, a chorus of agony amplified by this fresh slice.

"Time heals all wounds?" 

A pretty little myth for the naive. 

My scars are proof of its hollow core. 

They whisper of battles fought, not always won. 

They sting with a vibrant defiance against such a bland, passive cure.

So, no, I don't know the answer to that well-worn lie either. 

Perhaps time merely layers dust over the hurt, waiting for the next tremor to shake it all loose. 

What do you think?