Usually I do not reblog any self-harm pictures - like scars and wounds and such -, but this one is the exception. It shows the definition of love.
I remember times when he used to gently kiss the marks on my skin , times when he would trace the outlines of my flaws and love me all the more for them. I used to be a person with a cracked soul that he strived to put back together with the warmth of his lips but now there are no more days with tangled legs in tangled sheets or gentle outlines of my frame with his delicate touch.Oh how I wish I could be taken back to better times when I was loved for every little thing even the hundreds of marks on my skin.
So fucking beautiful