Scars

You have tattoos that lace your arms,

And one on your back. 

Soft lips and beautiful hands,

And a laugh that can stop time. 

Your left arm is scarred with stories 

that you carved in times of sadness. 

I remember the first time I saw them,

I traced the lines with my fingers

and fell in love with your strength. 

You are a hero for living from those moments to this one.
You never need to apologize for how you chose to survive. 

Your body is a map I know every inch of,
and if anyone else were to kiss me,
all they would taste is your name...