The Marks that Mar

On summer days, my fingers trace

The curving edges blooming slow

Left on my knees like purple lace

Where skin weaves blood with every blow

It’s darker than the pinks and reds

That decorate my shoulders there

Ghosts of touch like tire treads

That map my skin without a care

I’m often asked if I’m alright,

A neck that lies a murder scene

When it’s just skin that tries to fight

My hands, my hair, the air between

It riots at the slightest prod

A traitor to my every move

While I just want to live unshod

It flares to red to disapprove

And with my parchment state of life

It calls attention, ruby rife

I wish for all the eyes that fall

Upon my frame to see how tall

I stand among the crowds of men

Who try to make me crawl within

For I am golden, vibrant, bright

And more than just the color white

A girl who stands in pastel hues

And has a love that is her muse

For all comes back to finding meaning

And to him I can’t help but leaning

For like the sunshine he does glow

Sewing scars from long ago

Until I am no longer cut

With scarlet lines of my own making

Climbing out from my worn rut

And finding that I am not breaking

For though I thought that I was close

To shattering like porcelain shards

I can no longer diagnose

The blue ink stains to dying bards

For in the sun I find that I

Am colored in, and rich in shades

With carmine lips and azure eyes

Like clear beads that earned their jade

So for every blooming lilac bruise

I will not hide my shapes of umbra

For I have specters yet to lose

Lingering glacials of clinging tundra

I celebrate the marks laid claim

Stains that flower, blossoming moor

Like trellised stories that endure

Upon my soul, they always name

Lines of wine that bid me tether

To the world with vibrant Heather