inches by quarter inches

last night i found a row of scars
that i didn’t remember having.

last night it just struck me as strange,
tonight it screams beautiful
and points to something like grace.

because how could i forget even just one,
never mind a dozen thin little
lines that i once carved
into my fleshy paper white thighs?

when we allow our wounds to heal,
they do and that’s beautiful.

God showed me how to forget,
but he also taught me to remember.

and i remember the time i traced
every self-inflicted scar
with a red pen,
the expensive kind art-school kids use.

and R was glad to know where
every unbearable moment landed
on this body, the first naked girl
he’d ever seen in person,
but it broke his heart.

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