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You said you loved my scars
You said they were beautiful
A work of art
You kissed them
Loved them
But then you turned on me
You blamed me for being ashamed
Of my scars, of my mistakes
The marks that I kept hidden
But what about your scars?
The ones inside.
The ones I never learned about
Until someone else told me
You blamed me for being scared
Scared because I’ve been hurt
Scared of how you’d react
But you never acknowledged your own
And when I found out
I still loved you
Still accepted you
Would you still kiss my scars now?
Or are they just another thing,
Another tainted remembrance of me?