Invisible Scars

Invisible scars…

Others can’t see them, but it doesn’t lessen the sting. Every time you say something… do something, it reminds me of him. I flinch, almost like it’s second nature. I say I’m sorry, but I feel dirty… ashamed because I allowed him to taint my heart. I wonder if you’ll hurt me. I know I shouldn’t, but I am afraid to miss the signs again, to be hurt again.

I need you to just love me. See my flaws and look past them. Hug and hold me so tight that my broken pieces melt back together as if it was never broken. I want to love… full heartily and unapologetically, but I can’t. I did with him, and it back fired. So where does that leave me? Quietly backed into a corner, alone, like a dog slowing passing on. I hate him for this. I hate him because I loved…love him… loved him… I want this survival tactic to be a long past memory, but the wounds are still fresh… No matter how much I tell myself… You’re ok, Fuck him… it still doesn’t change the fact that I am now harder to love…

I am now Harder To Love!

So I thank you! Yes you! Thank you for being the one to see my scars and nurse them closed. You hit that open flesh with Neosporin and several bandages. You kiss my boo-boos and give me a smile, wiping away my tears and forcing me to giggle from your infectious grin. You aren’t him. You love me, not for the moment, but for all the moments, the snotty running nose and the flawless make up days. You make me feel like my scars are beautiful. You tell me I am not hard to love, a little stubborn, but the sunshine of your days. Every morning we spend together is truly a blessed day.

Thank you for being my New Him… my Favorite Him… my Only Him!


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