and sometimes,
his scars bleed.
he tries to hide them,
but they flow to the ground.
sometimes, he tries to swim.
sometimes, he lets go and waits to drown.
he says the waves are too strong.
that they always sweep him off his feet.
that his knees are far too weak to stand the storm.
and i?
i take his hand.
we walk along the shore.
i tell him
it was never about forgetting,
but about forgiving.
i tell him to embrace.
because the thing about scars is
they'll always bleed.
you have to learn to breathe under water.
