Remember When..
- Прочтений 39
- Голосов 7
- Частей 3
Scars.
The stories they claim as they etch our skin for eternity.
Most joyful as a little girl scrapes her knee learning how to ride a bike. Or a little boy climbing a tree as he releases cheerful giggles that the scars on his hands proof.
Yet, mine.
Mine does not strike joyful or triumphant moments of childhood. Nor does it make me grateful that I have survived a severe tragedy.
No.
My scar, etched along my once neatly kempt surface of skin reminds me of the didn'ts of my life.
I didn't fight. I didn't move. I didn't let him in.
I loved him though.
I sure as hell loved him.
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