The Sexy Scars

I play a game on his body. I draw the pattern of his body’s history and I kiss my way along his scars. The scars map a history of invasion. Athletic injuries, accidents, cancer sliced wide and the new scars still rubbery and scabbed.

I trace them downward from muscular shoulder to tight abs across a hip bone and lower, lower, lower still. The newest a diagonal line, flashing down, down, and I go down.