I Kept the Scars You Called Love Notes

A cycle of poems «Your Kiss Tasted Like a Late-Night Regret»

Faded ink and broken lines,
Marks that bleed through space and time.

You wrote your truth in pain and lies,
But I still read between the cries.

I kept the scars you called ‘love notes,’
Silent stories that no one wrote.
Every cut, a twisted quote,
Of a love that barely stayed afloat.

Your words were knives, sharp and cold,
Etched on skin that won’t let go.
I wore your hurt like a disguise,
Hiding tears behind my eyes.

You wrote your truth in pain and lies,
But I still read between the cries.

I kept the scars you called ‘love notes,’
Silent stories that no one wrote.
Every cut, a twisted quote,
Of a love that barely stayed afloat.

In every mark, a memory’s trace,
A haunting line I can’t erase.
Though the wounds have started to fade,
The ink remains, a price I paid.

Maybe one day I’ll learn to heal,
To let go of the pain I feel.
But for now, these scars remain,
A testament to love and pain.

I kept the scars you called ‘love notes,’
A silent song in broken throats.
Though they hurt, I still devote,
My heart to every scar you wrote.