The scars
I’ve given you
I can’t take back
I would
If I could
But there are no tracks;
They pierce
The marrow
To the soul
They’re not raised
White welts
Or linear
But go deeper
Beyond flesh
To your interior.
You’re a stitched-up
Rag doll
Broken and scarred
And I love you
Because
Of what you are;
Like the marks
On your belly
Our children left
Your beauty
Leaves
Me desolate.
All I give
Is scarred…
Even this poem
The pain
is yours
The guilt my own.