If my scars weren't written so clearly,
If my wounds were invisible, hidden neatly,
Would you still love me the way you do now?
Would I be enough without the marks that endow?
Would the tenderness I carry still have weight,
Without the history that my skin does state?
Would I be whole if I were untouched,
Or would the silence between us be far too much?
It's strange to wonder, if they were erased,
Would I still be seen, still feel embraced?
Would the world be kind, or would they doubt?
Would I still find the courage to step out?