Revival

The hands that have grazed my body were always cruel—demanding. Whether it be a stranger or a lover I had known for what seemed to be a lifetime, the touch was always cold. I was broken physically and mentally, but despite my bruised and battered appearance, you still see beauty. You’re different. You’re soft and genuine. Your eyes don’t question or judge. You see me for all that I am. You see the deepest, darkest parts of me, but it doesn’t make you love me less. In truth, you’re the most beautiful soul I’ve encountered. You bring life back to parts of me I haven’t seen in years. In those evergreen eyes I find inspiration. You’re my muse. 

This poem is about: 
Me

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