i learned somewhere (how)
to stop the counting
days or weeks
or months or seasons (now)

i count the marks

some of the cuts are so deep
i wonder if they might ever heal

or if i want them to (you know)

the marks you leave on me
and the ones i leave on you

and some of the burns are so bright
that i wonder if i’m not imagining paradise

and oh what a difference
your (our) marks make
and made and might yet make

has it really been a month
a day a week

a year

or does it matter

did i really teach you
how to be so hard

when i was trying so to show you
the marks of faith
of hope of life
of love

a tear

© Guy - 2005