The Hamlet Project

I remember the moment I realized that “flaws” were precious.
His arm was across my lap,
From the wrist to inner elbow, a scar, the flesh uneven.
I ran my finger over it, wondering –
Wondering, not what had happened but wondering at the wonder
Of a bump in the body being so beautiful.
Were my own imperfections beautiful somehow?
In my mind, I was full of angry scars
Nothing but mistakes.
But in loving his scar
I saw how I could love my own,
Imperfections mingling with the rest, making the totality of a person.