I’ve had enough fire for a lifetime.

Engulfed,

And then lifted above the flare,

And then engulfed for more.

Scald, rinse, repeat.

No salve will heal these burn scars

And I don’t want them to.

They’re not beautiful.

I don’t call them “tiger stripes”

Like some bullshit attempt

To pretend they’re anything

Other than

Hideous.

Reminders that I survived something

Hideous.

Many somethings

Hideous.

I took the ashes every time,

And scrubbed them into my skin,

Made a smudge of myself,

Camouflaged to keep them all at bay,

So no one could get too close.

No one needed to see these

Burn scars.

Least of all myself.

Turns out it’s tough to

Permanently mask

Burn scars that can still alight,

Flicker

Like constellations across my night

Whenever they so choose.

Hiding them all

Is no longer a worthwhile task.

Survivorhood sometimes feels like

I’m a walking billboard,

A fluorescent cautionary tale.

Don’t call out my burn scars,

In some well-intended but

Deluded victimizing attempt at

Flattery.

How about some honesty?

Trust me, I know they’re there,

And I know

You know too.

“Oh, you’ve been through so much!”

Gee, what gave it away?

The neon signs?

The phosphorescent marquee

Blinking persistently?

Need some spelled out directions?

Take a left at the active volcano of

Therapy bills

And go straight ahead,

To this here shiny vessel

For my free verse stream of

Consciousness.

Ya can’t miss it.

Don’t ask me for gory details,

Like my life is a gossip magazine.

I’ll share what I want, and what I can,

When I’m ready,

How I see fit,

And some things are

For only me to know.

My burn scars do enough

In welcoming you to the

Freak Show.

“All that is gold does not glitter.”

You are correct, sir.

Sometimes it’s the burn scars.

If I had to choose to redo anything,

Maybe not each of the billion times,

But just once,

I’d take the tongues of flame

Like lashes across my back

If that’s what it took for me to learn

The glow of true warmth.

Light without scorching heat.

Because now I can recognize

The difference.

My lungs can expand

Without the smoke

On which I used to choke,

Never realizing cleaner air existed.

Unpolluted blood pounds

From my heart

And through my veins.

I’ve detoxified my soul,

Restored my body,

But my spine will always be a

Lightning rod

And I still bear these radioactive

Burn scars.

And I still have days where I demand

You close your eyes

Because sometimes

They still glow in the dark.