At one time he thought she had nearly perfect skin
Soft, yet taut, with a caramel color that, in the right light
Glowed like backlit amber
She reflected upon that time in her life
As she looked into the mirror
Her eyes only able to see the scars
She suddenly remembered how it ended
His persistent habit
Coming home drunk, untolerable
The nearly perfect skin he adored
Bruised, battered
Until it was beyond repair
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