410 – Marks

Her skin
Was perfect
Yet she was covered
In deep scars.

They were carved
By years of compelled dissonance
Between the public good girl
And herself.

She had cried in silence
For every broken dream
Until the tears dried
And she lost track.

The warm drops
Running down her skin
Could not wash away
What she had been.

Why are you crying?
The soft voice behind her
Dug deep into her heart
To caress her very soul.

She turned to face
Her deep violet eyes
And gently pulled her
Into the shower.

Just remembering…
She whispered in her ear.
How it was
Before you.

She held her body
Tight against her own
Feeling the deep pleasure
Of being vulnerable