the scars we wear

the scars we wear make us
the scars we wear make us
the scars we wear do not heal
when we need them most
to heal
i wear my scars proudly
i wear my scars with profound misery
i glorify my scars
i fail to hide my scars
i joke about my scars
until someone is cruel to me,
knowing or not knowing
sticking fingers deep into the tender scar
twisting, prodding…
but most painful of all…
walking away from me
from my scars
look at me though!
aren’t my scars pretty?
don’t they make me charming & unique
don’t they even make me…beautiful?
in a way?
how can you leave me?
look at me now…
covering my scars
until a light breaks
& i can see your scars
how did i never notice your scars?
scars i had poked & prodded
worst of all,
walked away from
your beautiful scars.


© quixotic mama 2018
for more of my art & writings visit me at quixotic mama
the image is an original of mine, ink brush on canvas

8 Comments Add yours

  1. emje says:

    Reblogged this on Quixotic Mama and commented:

    this is a poem i wrote some time back. i found it in a file i had titled “one up on sylvia plath; i have an electric oven.” the image is another ink brush on canvas.


  2. the scars we have on us, they are what made us into who we are, and, despite how awful they appeared on our bodies, we should still, wear them proud, because we earned them, going through all the trials of our lives…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. emje says:

      most of my scars aren’t visible–so i make art with them to show them off.


  3. I really enjoy seeing a piece of your poetry from the past. Speaks to the cyclical wearing, bearing, and creation of scars between human beings that ultimately want to be accepted for who they are.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. emje says:

      i can tell where i was at in the cycle of my relationship with the ex by the almost sweet ending of the poem.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Jonah says:

    Wow. So real and aching.

    Liked by 1 person

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