"like the scars that fade,"
Tyler Loeslein 

I think I’ll name this scar after you.
Not because you put it there,
or had anything to do with it at all,
but because I like it.
I like the way it makes me feel
or, I suppose,
the way it helped me
to not feel.
Kind of he way that you
make everything else,
especially the bad
feelings and thoughts,
Just disappear.

I think it’s kind of pretty.
Even if everyone else
pulls on my wrist,
yanking my arm to better their view,
and with disgusted looks
tell me how ugly it is.
They lecture me
on how I could do better,
how I AM better
than this scar,
than you.

I put that scar there,
on the delicate skin,
of the inside of my arm.
Its a place kept warm
with obnoxious sweaters
at Christmas parties.
You’re my plus one,
but no one knows,
because you’re tucked
safely inside my sleeve.
It’s an intimate place,
soft and innocent,
that, excluding my “art”,
is unblemished.
It isn’t touched by the evil
that fills the world
and follows me home
after class at night.
Which reminds me
of that one time
that you walked me home.

I’m naming it after you,
because despite the ignorant
thoughts of people
that refuse to even try
and understand me,
skipping the handshake
that accompanies introductions
and the exchange of names,
skip straight to judgment,
and voiced opinions
of how bad this scar is,
how bad you are for me.
I can’t help but disagree.

I name it after you,
because this scar is part of me,
and it always will be.
So I don’t really care
if you’re temporary,
like the scars that fade,
because unlike them,
you won’t really ever go away.
I’m naming it after you
to show just how serious I am
about how you’ve affected me.

Critiques and suggestions are always welcome :)
"You see the scars,"
Tyler Loeslein 

You see the scars,
pale lines like tally marks
covering the math quiz
found on the delicate skin,
that when found
on the inside of your wrist,
looks like innocence.

It makes you wonder,
what monsters live
under this person’s bed
waiting until they sleep,
to sneak into their heads
and make them destroy
their innocence,
that’s hidden on their wrist;
that makes them destroy
the beauty found
in unmarred skin.

Regardless of the monster
and it’s name or origin,
you’re willing to don the armor
and become a knight,
so that you can slay the beast
in honor of lost innocence
and for a future
free of the pain
that accompanies self mutilation.

You’re a hero
in pursuit of  beauty
found in life
before it’s ruined on wrists;
but you also fight for the beauty
that is found in scars
and the stories they tell
after they heal,
as long as no new wounds
cover them
and smother their voice.

Although you’re ready
with a sword in hand
and protective plates
covering your unmarked body
you don’t really know
how to kill this monster
or how to save this person,
a stranger that slipped
when they let you see the scars,
unaware of the fire they sparked
within your mind
that made you want to reach out,
and if you could,
touch those scars
and tell them,
that even though
the scars came from ugly feelings
you still saw that person’s beauty.

You don’t know how to handle,
their violent reaction
to your seemingly kind words,
but don’t take it to heart,
I know you’re just trying to help,
but they don’t understand
that those words can be said
with real sincerity.

It’s not your fault,
that they only hear
insults regardless of what you say;
when you say beautiful
they can’t help but hear ugly,
and when you offer help,
they can’t stop from feeling
as though they’ve been attacked,
because although you want to help,
you can’t.

Please, anyone that reads this, leave me feedback. Consider this a very rough draft that I intend to revise, but right now I'm stuck. I'll even take any title options. I don't know, I had an idea and I tried going with it...
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