The first time I loved and lost
The wound bled so much I cauterized my own heart
Blended pain with pain and hoped maybe I would turn numb to it all
First loves always hurt the worst
The second time I loved and lost
The ridges of my scars scared me
Id run my fingers along their gruesome edges and realized that I would never be beautiful and unblemished again
Second loves leave the worst scars
The third time I loved and lost
I went to war
Hid those scars beneath armor, pierced my blade into my lover’s chest
Retreated into the dark abyss and told myself that this was growth - I survived.
Third loves leave carnage behind
The fourth and final time I loved and lost
He handed me a flower from the garden
Ran his hands through my unruly curls
And called those ugly scars of mine art
In this story, I lost to a man who loved me first
My armor sat collecting dust for years, and even if it wasn’t my happily ever after, I learned to plant peace instead of war
Fourth loves leave only flowers
A tribute the boys who loved and left behind. Each one leaving a mark on my soul.
To the fifth I haven’t met, please be gentle.
