The past few days I was with Hannah and her family at the beach and her cousin had had bars in his chest like you did. I couldn't help but look at the scars and see you in the back seat of Davy with your sunflower eyes and honey colored hair and me sitting back and admiring you in all your strength, vulnerability, and beauty. I wonder if you're still self conscious about your scars. I think they're beautiful. I hope you know I'm proud of you. I wish I knew how you are, what you're thinking, what you think about me. Do you think about my scars and insecurities? I wonder how you would react to my new ones. Does she kiss your scars and tell you they're a symbol of your perseverance and strength? Do you still want to get tattoos on them? Have you already gotten tattoos on them? Do you still not like your body? I think you're the most attractive, handsome, gorgeous, sexy man I've ever met. Does she think your eyes look like sunflowers? Does she know you're an Angel? I found old pictures of us on my phone. I can't seem to let you go. I know you fought for me and us, I want to do the same but I don't think that's welcome. We agreed that we would stop talking, but my mind still drifts back to late nights in the moonlight tracing your skin and holding you close. Talking about everything and nothing. Foreheads touching, tears at a red light to a song we think is us, cuddles, laughter, nicknames, inside jokes, future plans, and learning each other. I wanna know you again. I wish I was by your side.
