honey & lime

cerebral palsy

I used to think my footsteps sounded like a horse

that’d been injured in her first race

ugly and buck-toothed

clip clop-thunk clip clop-thunk clip clop-thunk

I would watch the floor

so I wouldn’t have to watch

the Eckleberg eyes around me

so that I wouldn’t trip on the ice

or over a rock

or (most often) over my own feet

I used to think that my scars should be hidden

puckered and textured

drew too much attention to the round,

paleness of my stomach

 

She told me after she fell in love with me

that she knew the sound of my footsteps

that the sound made her heart race

her lips pull into a smile

Her fingers slipped through mine so that

I didn’t have to watch the floor

the Eckleberg eyes around me disappeared

when the ice was slippery or a rock was in my way

I would hold her hand tighter

She told me after she fell in love with me

that my scars were one of her favorite parts of me

that they were special

that they should be shown off

but that she felt special being the only one

I let examine them up close

Now I know my footsteps sound like her heartbeat

Now I know my scars drew just enough attention

to me because they brought me to her