The lady formed of scars

She wore her hair down low and kept her head held high.
This is no place to be afraid.
She’d crave the love you’d give her and return it encrypted; no man could hold her hand.
A kiss upon the nape of her neck, he lay to count her freckles,
With kindness in his hands, she knew he had to leave.
Emotions withdrawn on demand, this way she knew could keep her whole.
While mending cuts spread, in alcohol submerged
Reproached fists unravel, droplets fall at his feet.

She cleared her throat and answered while the pressure became intense.
Her voice kept ever sturdy to conceal herself, no evidence or sign would show
A bluff of all importance, to rid these timely scars
A hand so delicate can be mistaken at a glance, where the eyes had missed, her fears used to inform

Condemned to wear the markings but safe to gain no more
The love she craves, ever longing, more distance yet to cover
Fears lain down to rest, she held her head high
She knew no place to be afraid
Her scars would fade with time.