Work Text:
There's a thin line on Sherwins heart,
A tiny rift where it was repaired,
A small fracture,
Only visible in the right lighting.
That little line is nothing,
Compared to the mottled colors,
Running down the thick and warped scar lines on Jonathan's heart.
"He's a perfect kid." Some would say,
"And he deserves no pity."
And at a glance it may be true,
But that ignorance swept under the rug,
How,
Jonathan's heart was stained,
Blue,
Like the feeling,
And how,
His heart,
Had been sliced open and bled,
From things that were said.
Jonathan tried never to put his heart on his sleeve,
Or let it fly out unbridled,
In case someone had questions,
About it's sorry form.
But he made an exception,
Because Sherwin had asked,
"What about your heart?"
What about his heart?
Well Jonathan had previously had friends,
The type who had liked him until they didn't,
The type who found his heart sporting an unorthodox way,
Not ok.
Even before Jonathan's old friends knew,
That he wanted Sherwin,
That he'd loved him,
Those friends still spouted words,
That dug marks across Jonathan's skin
Because they found love like his and Sherwin's,
Something wrong.
Casted as a popular kid,
The eyeing students grew by the day and expected a happy face.
So he told nobody of his problems.
He hid his true self,
In a pool self loathing,
Topped with a facade of a collected attitude,
By hiding his problems,
He appeased the masses with a fake a-ok demeanor.
Those wicked words from his former friends,
Taught him everything he was,
Was wrong.
So he took it out on his shoulder,
Letting their ugly words dig trenches through flesh,
Drawing red rivers in their wake.
There are no new marks anymore though,
But those past scars still linger.
Sherwin saw them,
Just once,
In a vulnerable moment,
Where clothes had been irrelevant,
And young intimate desires had prevailed.
But giving in to the feelings,
Of shirtless desires,
Had torn away the only garment,
Hiding those shoulder marks of,
What Jonathan had done,
To help himself comply,
With those hurtful thoughts.
Jonathan's heart was only a reflection,
Of everything he'd had happen,
So scars showed up on his heart to match,
Like a sick sort of twin for his shoulder.
Those scars would never fully fade,
It would only make it harder to find acceptance,
For who he was.
But Sherwin knows,
Jonathan is fine regardless,
Of his mottled heart,
Because if Jonathan could save his heart
From snapping in two,
Then Sherwin would be there to save his,
From tearing apart into a million shreds.
Those scars are signs Jonathan survived,
Refusing to give in to the weight of the hatred.
And didn't fall down a hole of despair,
And land lifeless at the bottom.
Somehow that makes them,
In Sherwin's eyes
Painfully beautiful,
Like a butterfly with a broken wing.
Sherwin knows,
Those scars show,
Jonathan's still here,
Regardless of what happened,
Those scars are a sign of his strength,
Not a sign of his weakness.