December 28, 2017
By , Cupertino, CA

You know the beauty of scars?
Even as the seasons switch
The bleached skin never gets back its color
Both tainted and pure

The aftertaste is the savory taste of change,
Especially the sharp stench of pain
Aged with sea salt tears, spicy seasonal resolutions, and tart heartbreaks
All perfectly complemented by sober bedside drinking

The slow progression of prickly healing
The unspoken solitude of watching others grow while it struggles to recover
The elation when it’s old enough to scab over the vulnerable visceral
The familiar loneliness when the protective layers fall off
And flesh is reborn

At first, it’s quite ugly but fun to poke
Spongy, visible, noticeably different from the rest
But soon the funny touch and appearance
dissolve into just another speck of skin
And its beauty becomes you

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