The heart of a poet

What he loved of me

I stepped out of the shower dripping wet with my fingers lingering against my skin, i moved my hands to my scars. I looked in the mirror and thought of all my imperfections, and I remembered what he loved of me. My eyes, that now are just sorrowful and filled with tears. My hair, which now soaking wet covers my face that I'm glad not to see. My laugh, that utterly makes me cringe because it makes me think of you and how you aren't mine. Before I did not feel love, but for you my heart was for the taking......