He told me My scars made me stronger My scars made me beautiful But he was wrong
The minute he realized Just how deep the cuts ran- Piercing through my skin and bleeding out parts of my soul- He turned the other way And never looked back Not once ... And he left me thinking How he was one of the good ones... And if he couldn't love all of me How would anyone ever Love me for my scars? ... How would anyone ever Love me at all? ...
(Not a poem but a piece of one of RH's old novels I'm rereading just to realize I find something new to love about this story every time I read it. I'm missing her a lot more than usual lately but Happy Writing and thanks for the support! ~BM)