The tip of her pen pierced her love letters, smearing ink all over it.
It reminded her of how a handful of men had pierced her heart and left her with scars.
Yet she kept writing her letters.
In these love letters to herself she wrote –
“I am not afraid of drool stains on sheets, they show I slept peacefully.”
“I am not afraid of smeared ink on letters, they show I write passionately.”
“I am not afraid of black scars on my coffee coloured skin; they show the world I carry stories with me.”