My lover has a scar Just above her hipbone; It's not a small ****, a forgotten accident. They're words - Straight lines she etched Deliberately, Slowly, Painfully.
I trace my fingers softly, Not to wake my love, But I can't soften their bite. Words of cruel warning, An order, imperative. Commanding, even faded, Echo a silent scream.
They mock me, mock us, For they still have a hold: She is only half mine. They hurt me, cold, Like unblinking eyes, Knowing that she stares back Every day.
I barely brush them, Intruders on soft skin, Indelible scripture Of darkness within.