**** every person who ever said "don't romanticize self harm"

**** every person who just stared and never asked how I was

And **** those friends who never helped, who never even cared to bring it up when I gave myself stitches in their ******* bathrooms.

There is nothing romantic about the slashing of your own flesh. There is NOTHING beautiful about the change of skin tone on my legs from scar upon scar. There is nothing romantic about self harm but the love of my life can touch my scars and I can ******* undress for once without hiding.

She can graze and stare and one day she kissed.
She kissed and she kissed and she ******* kissed until my eyes burned and I was shattered. She ******* broke my ribs when she touched them and punctured my lungs when her lips plunged into my valleys of pink and purple and I wanted nothing more than my scars kissed.
I wanted nothing more than to be ******* loved and my pain to be ******* recognized and romanticized until I couldn't feel it anymore.

So **** those who said don't romanticize self harm.

Because I am scared and weak and sad and I want to be swooned and coddled and treated like the wounded bird I am. My wings were clipped with my own hands and she desperately tries to heal them with every ******* kiss.

And I can feel the bones form and the feathers grow

I was a ******* crow and she made me a dove.