there is about fifteen scars on my right hip that refuse to fade away. they stretch on, silvery white like a phantom silhouette i can't quite put my finger on.
on my left ankle there is three parallel cuts, mellowed and barely left present against the plains of untouched skin.
i have others, dear friend, but i gained these when i was the predator
and the prey.
darling, please do not look in the mirror and wish to tear your flesh anew, leaving your muscle and blood vessels and organs exposed. do not despise the ghosts that lead themselves across your body.
sweetheart, scars mean that you won the war. wounds mean the battle is still raging.
salt rubbed, ripe, infected, or healed. things will be alright, and they are alright now.
i swear on the scars on my hips, the lines of translucence on my ankle, the faded cigarette burn on my arm.
( and never forget, i love you )
YOU ARE READING
nevermind + poetry.
Poetryin which i write poems about love and growing up and everything that comes in between
