The heart still remains a virgin.

Do not tell me that the blue-black blisters are not beautiful.
They are.

Whipped. Flogged. Next, thrashed.

Each of the crimson cicatrice writes about a battle I won. Each brown wound speaks the story of a brave girl who never gave up.

The scars no longer look ugly when I stand naked in front of the mirror. Because, I have started loving the hues, and along with them,myself.

Do not tell me that the burning craters are not beautiful.

They are.

I stand at the threshold wearing the same old , purple-green smile. 

Smile of victory. 

Smile of revenge. 

Smile of standing through the whole.

The heart bleeds.

It does.

But despite the thousand daggers that slits through or the million smithereens it breaks into, 

the heart still remains a virgin.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s