You said you loved my bruises
That there was something beautiful about those purple and blue splotches against my porcelain skin
That my body looked like a water color painting

You said you loved my scar
As you would traced your fingers along it, up and down my chest and between my *******
Your fingers were so earnest
Like a teenage boy feeling the sway of a girls hips beneath him for the first time

You said you loved my stretch marks
That they were a beautiful addition against the backdrop of my curves
How the feel of them made you unable to quit,  as you ran your hands down my hips and kissed my lips

I just have one question for you
You loved my flaws, or so you said
But obviously your love is dead
So what did she have that I didn't? Was she more beautiful than I?
Tell me, please tell me, I promise I'll try not to cry

our flaws don't define us
they make us who we are
stretch marks, dimples
and all of your scars
each mark is a star
in your body's constellation
and though they tear us apart
we can't let them
no matter what
if we accept them or change
they will be used against us,
people will find a way
so we have to call them beautiful
look at them and smile
because they make us, us
they make us worthwhile

Crushed flowers are more beautiful
Than those that are not
They tell a story
Much like the scars we carry
Be it on our skin or in our minds
Our tales are what define us
And not our appearances
That wither just as the flowers
That are in bloom and shining so brightly
Give them a few more days
And they'll be no more
Than a fleeting memory