Bed of Scars

My body is an embodiment of scars
Others too deep to heal and bandage, their roots are deeper than Pacific ocean,
Others a seasonal pain that is triggered by patterns
And others just a scratch on the surface.

A battle field of swords and knives at dawn, I am strong.

Every-day I bath my body in warm salted water, With my heart envying the salt and warmth of the ocean.

To ease and soothe the pain,
I moisturize every inch of me with expensive lotions, oils and cologne. 

To heal the scars,
I bandage my body with my most favorite garments and I walk as if I owe the world nothing.

I wear my most expensive and beautiful smile all day long and the world buys the most expensive lie told by a woman
I am strong…

With every sunset, I cave back to my darkest place in the comfort of my home. All my fears, insecurities, dysfunctionsl relationships, mistakes and heartbreaks come out to play.

I take off the very garments that bandaged me from the world,
And the rawness of my scars lay bare,
Fresh and excruciatingly painful.

Tears draw up pathways on my face, my hands too tired to wipe them, I lay down on my blankets and my pillows wipe away the tears.

As I look at my weak, tired and scarred body with teary face,
I console myself…” day one is sorted,
Let’s take one more breath for day 2” I say.

My body is a bed of scars…