I’m always testing the ones who love me
even though the number is few.
Sweet words are so foreign
I don’t trust them to be true.
I have scars that tell stories
and stories that tell scars.
The dark does not scare me
greeting each other like old friends.
No one understands me better.
But this darkness has nothing pretty about it.
So I compare it to the moon
showing the world pretty bright lights
and hiding a part of itself never to be seen.
Letting people in is so hard when you know
They are so likely to go
after rubbernecking at the wreckage.
And bruises fade faster if no one keeps pressing into them.