These Words.

The Stars Of My Scars

You tell me that you can read me like a book

And with every turn of my paper thin skin

You uncover more words that nobody has ever read;

No one else ever got this far

They gave up when they realized this wasn’t a love story,

I’m not a happy ending,

And now the ghosting of your fingers

Up my name on the binding of my spine

Is the only thing holding me together

You look at me like a map, 

Unfolding my soul and smoothing out the creases

Left from spending years in someones glove box;

You tell me you can see all the detours

I took to the bathroom floor 

And the monument of his tombstone,

And you can trace the dead end streets

That started with a laugh and my hand clasped in his

And ended in a culdesac of bruises 

In an exact replica of the same rounded fist

You connect the scars of my past

Into constellations;

You press a kiss to the big dipper

Attached to the north star in the pulse point of my wrist

And whisper something about always pointing you home,

You run your fingers over the long healed wounds 

Of a hydra snaking its way up my leg

And thank god that I always came back,

You use your mouth to trace the marks on my back

Formed by a belt not belonging to Orion

But you change the stars of my scars

Into pegasus instead

Giving me the wings I have always dreamed of