Scars

지난달

The scars
I’ve given you
I can’t take back

I would
If I could
But there are no tracks;

They pierce
The marrow
To the soul

They’re not raised
White welts
Or linear

But go deeper
Beyond flesh
To your interior.

You’re a stitched-up
Rag doll
Broken and scarred

And I love you
Because
Of what you are;

Like the marks
On your belly
Our children left

Your beauty
Leaves
Me desolate.

All I give
Is scarred…
Even this poem

The pain
is yours
The guilt my own.

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