The water is verdant cerulean, hot as flame
immersed, we nest amongst golden dragon eggs,
rub weariness from our shoulders with roses
our reflections pool and starlight basks silver.
The forest is quiet but for tender nightingales
your skin is gold in glory, holy to the touch
“You are so very beautiful,” I say, breathless
you smile like a sage, wings aflame, take my hand.
“Those who find beauty in scarred things are rare.”
“The scars are hard-earned, and quite rarer still
is a warrior that carries kindness in his heart.”
There are comets above, shooting like pool balls.
“I haven’t earned anything, just scars on my brain.”
“No, you have strength and beauty in equal measure
Look where your back carries your burdens, relax,
and let your tears fall upon the waters like rain.”
“Your spine is beautiful, your shoulder blades swords:
the place where wing meets woman is boundless potential
your most vulnerable spot, an adamant rib cage symphony,
it is my favorite part, where you break, and are made anew.”