Her Scars Tell a Story

Admist the twilight, she dares to creep, Her scars tell silent stories, buried deep, Each line, a testament, a thread of her past, Woven with resilience, they hold her steadfast. They’re not marks of weakness, but pathways of grace, A roadmap of heartaches, each curve has its place, In the magnificence of her, I see a flame, A spirit unyielding, too wild to tame. I hold her close, where vulnerability breathes, On those jagged edges, true beauty weaves, For to love her is to honor each wound, To cradle her heart, in the darkness consumed. Let the world whisper of the beauty defined, By smooth, unmarked skin, our affection’s confined; I’ll write her a love song, a hymn for her fight, For her scars are my compass, guiding me sight.