Will you read the scars on my skin?
What foul secrets do they withhold?
Which somber memories do they display overhead?
Tell me, what do they disclose to you that they haven't to me?
Do they sound deceptive or are you certain they speak with honesty?
They were created with a fierce hatred and misery so forgive them if they are unrelenting at times.
The stories they express are grim so clutch the spine of their story and close the covers, until next time.
Pursue the plot if you will but I warn you now to brace yourself.
They will defend their history, their words.
Or is it me fighting for my secrets to stay confined?
Perhaps my scars are the ones yearning to be heard.
Have they been the ones crying out to be seen?
Offering clips of my trauma with quivering hands?
Begging for a cure, a balance, a bandage.
Though the time of bleeding was long ago for them, words still spill and they write out your name.
My Book of Scars may not be lovely to gaze upon or in a language you can understand but they tell my stories while I catch my breath.
Violence and agony was how they were created but love and time was how they were healed.
And that to me is lovely.
YOU ARE READING
I Have More Than A Perfect Figure
Poesía"Strength, love, suffering and healing. The gritty surface of reality written down on every page. This is a heartfelt message to everyone who can relate to the tragedy of life experiences, trauma and relationships."
