i picked the scabs off my wounds
and made them bleed anew,
never allowing them to heal so easily.
i watched in amazement as new blood
drips and smears my skin.
i watched abrasions,
particularly the deep ones,
fascinated at how they can hurt.
i loved the pain that comes
with the cut.
i never cried at my gashes.
i still have scars from all the carelessness
of my life,
and i wear them proud,
like a veteran
who survived the war.
i come home to my waiting bed,
my mother’s pillow
my comfort through all the tears,
as i hide the pain in gauze of bravery.
i have been courageous.
i have never chosen my battles,
because i have always believed
that every single one of them is worth the ache.
here i am now, choosing yet again
the ecstasy of pain.
here i am, choosing the beautiful agony
of choosing to love you.

for j.e.
*111614