Tiny, white lines cover her arms.
They crisscross and some of them are at angles,
Some have faded and some are new.
They are all beautiful
To me at least.
It's her constant reminder of everything she has been through
And a reminder of how strong she is.
I trace the scars with my fingertips
She shutters gently and looks away.
I'm so proud of you,
You never, ever gave up hope that tomorrow will be better.
She smiles faintly and kisses her scars.
Her beautiful, white scars that reminds her
That things will get better.