I want someone to kiss my scars and tell me I’m beautiful still, that even after my scars I’m worthy to be loved and seen, I want someone to tell me that warriors do not come clean.
I had a playlist of his name. Of songs he would send me now and then. Now every song I hear is a ghost of him. A reminder that he is here. But he is not.
Love is like water; like a river crushing through the mountains to carve its own path. Love will make its own way but only if you have the courage to follow.
