Scars Are Beauty Marks
By Steven L Herring

Hush and be still
It's a quiet fight
On a cloudy day
or in the dark of night

Dust from a moon boot
Cunningly clean
close up
to a motor boat
or bleeding bright red blood
from a fresh cut throat

Roses

Bunched on a bed
with sanded sheets
hand in hand
on a distant beach
I tasted the salt on her lips
contemplating the possibility
of my fingertips
discreetly brushing her hips

Ever so lightly
Slightly sliding through belt loops
Never let me go

I let her go
She told me to go
she
told
me
to
go

I cut the deepest
with the rustiest
of razors
She put the brakes on
with the freshest
of erasers
and when I think of her
she's faceless
But the saltiness is all gone
and I'm tasteless
but my scars aren't
baseless

Bandaged up
Boots on
Get back in the game
We got guys on bases
and you're up to bat son