The design of lines wrapping her life,
Architecture revealing her past,
Expose the pain she’s walked alone,
Expose the trouble she’s danced,
And she’s tried to hide, tried to smile,
Tried to bake off to fleek,
Tried to cover all she’s become,
To avoid the social critique,
But I see through her jagged bedrock,
Holding her emotional trust,
And love every line, straight or zigzagged,
Staining her bones like a rust,
And nurture the scars of her love and her hurt,
The scars from over the years,
I love and hold tight all the scars she now owns,
They show the real woman she is.
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