Some scars appear
as immaculate smiles
painted below weary
eyes that know
nothing but to
quietly turn away.

Some scars,
permeating,
turn
the air
in one's
lungs
to sulfur,
spreading
counterfeit
blood
through
the veins
like an
acrid,
festering
poison.
Some scars,
corroding,
leave a heart
surrounded
in rot,
and
a mind
courting
the
seductive
caress
of
endless
oblivion.

Turn back now,
toward that mirror.
Stay foul, rotten
and helplessly hurting.
Some scars heal
in complete surrender.

And I know
how the past
can be
a difficult thing
to forget.
Bruised knees
and
bleeding elbows
were far easier problems
to fix than matters
of
the heart.

But don’t forget
in each somber
embrace of defeat
is your soul
lying in wait,
resting to rise,
your judgment solely
superior yet finite.
Take it slow.
Pain fades overtime.
Scars simply remind.

........
And I wish you had none of it,
but let the marks on your skin
be a testament to
the wild call of adventure in your heart.
Let the heaviness in your chest
tell you that there have been
instances in your life
where you have chosen to be brave;
that sometimes
—when you let the love in—
the hurt also enters,
completely uninvited,
and sometimes it's
the one that stays.
Sometimes we
take the leap,
and sometimes
we don't walk away
from it unscathed,
but that doesn't mean
you are not all the good
that is found in you
—that doesn't mean
you weren't enough;
You are the sum total
of all the things you love
and care about,
and no amount of hurt will ever take that away from you.


You are a constellation of scars born from mysteries and imperfect Ever Afters,
and one incredibly unforgettable journey.