He asked me about my scars...
And I could't answer,
filling the silence with
that disgust and fear welling up in my chest.
This would be the end of us.
That's how it always is.
You can fill cracks with gold,
you can paint over the streaks,
but it's not the same
and no one wants a broken girl.
Not even as friends like us.
but he just looked at me and said
You should know that you're perfect
and don't need any of that.
*...And you're feisty.