White Scar

Every blow’s like a kiss,

as the lilies of may.
Every strike that I miss,

is a miserable day.

Every mark that is left,

is like a great legacy,

a wound on the chest,
bears impressive integrity.

A bruise on the face,
is a guard of honour,
all the tears that I taste,
will never be bitter.

All the knives in my back,

are softer than you,
and the edges all lack,
the skill to cut through

Your eyes are deep,
the colour of the sea,
they swim with heaps,
of painful sympathy.

With your acid stare,
comes your powerful build,
with every glare,
no blood can be spilled.

Because you leave white scars,

and kiss with your fists,

Your eyes becomes stars
when they stare at my lips.