Scars

Let me kiss your scars,
linger over them with my lips and love,
celebrate them with my laughter.

Let me kiss your scars,
and I will bare my own, tentatively perhaps,
but in joy of the salvation each one marks.

Let me kiss your scars,
and we will dance into the night
like lovers and madmen, drunk with life.

Let me kiss your scars.

About this poem

Scars. We all have them. And often we hide them, when in fact, they are often what make us, us. Beauty marks on our bodies and our souls. Celebrations of survival on our skin.

And the picture? It has nothing to do with the poem. But I needed to put SOMETHING up there. It was taken at the Sterling Renaissance Fair earlier this summer.

Tom