Painter

Contemplating the pallet of shades.
The fine bristles are all slightly splayed.
Wondering what paint depicts the heart.
The artist sits ready, brush in hand.
Tips heavy with colors both light and dark.

Can You See

Can you see my hands? Can you see the marks, and the scars?
This one here is from holding on too tight, this one is for trying not to fall.
Here's one from reaching out to touch someone.
This one is from holding on to long, and one from playing with fire.
There's one, for letting go before I should, here, from trying too hard.
And this one is for trying to catch someone.
This one is from trying something new, and here, from not being very careful.
Can you see my heart? Can you see the marks and the scars?
For when I see my hands I can see my heart.
I wouldn't change a thing, I love every mark.

In fond memory

Etched into my heart,

embedded in my soul.

A light in the brightest

memories I hold