child,
the scars you carry
never quite reach your eyes
or smile.
they don’t give edge to your laughter
or bitterness to your voice
they are a reminder of life
the memory of pain
and you wear them well
I’m sorry I asked for a pristine canvas.
I’d rather have you.
I found your blog via Living in Outlaw Territory…this piece moved me incredibly. Beautiful, stark, eloquent and haunting. Well done.
Jade
I love this! you are amazing
I often tell my wolf that I want to become his canvas, become the perfect crucible for him to pour himself out on. I worry that the canvas is flawed with my many scars, the many things that have shaped who I am now. He tells me that he gets to determine what a flaw is.
Will I be perfect when I accept that?