Sunday, July 20, 2008


Scars are a beauty mark, warrior

each a history holds;

tales for cold nights

when, together we lie, talk

satiated, reminiscing;

of the many times life would have

robbed me of you love-

been incomplete for me.

But crazy gods were merciful;

you still live, and I lie

content, your warmth with me

your breath bathing my face.

How will I not

praise the scars I trace in

the leaping flames of the night

when, spared you were

to lie close to me now?

How can I not my fingertips

on those scars run, that marked but

saved you for me?

©GayUganda 19 Jul 08


Leonardo Ricardo said... they ever fadeaway?

gayuganda said...

No, they dont.

Ever there, that's why we should, take strength from them. Celebrate them, rather than mourn them.

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