Looking through these crevices;
of a brick wall that reminds me,
of a mountain so tall,
yet disparities rise in the rocks,
maybe by a flowing river, full of shy surprises,
or the mighty wind, who to blame?
For these ruptures on the smooth façade.
With the mountains as my heart,
and you as the river and the wind,
these scars you leave on me are not blotches,
But beautiful marks that define me,
much like a brick wall with crevices