Mine – 14

his hand traces
the scars on her skin
left there so long ago
a faint line here, followed by another,
then another in a row
no judgment in his eyes,
only acceptance
over the things
that he knows

i see you, he tells her,
though i’ll never know
the things you yearned
to scream then
but i hear them –
each scar telling him
their story
from each beginning
to each end.

 

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