if we ever could

every bruise
      shines
a hue
        unique
      to the
    turmoil
which it was
      created.

every eye
       reflects
the blight
   it endures.

every cut
is
   different
than
       the last.

the scars
     range
in depth
and value,
but still
    they are
    wounds.

we hold
    every
       injury
         the same...
taste the
flashing pain
with which
it was inflicted...

and yet
     we dance
              again.