Poem in progress

If I could take one flaw away from you
The whole of you would be less richly textured.
I don’t need to cut you to pieces
And love only the pretty bits.

When you were a child,
Someone carved a question mark into you
And you have been bleeding since,
Hearts-blood making the ground treacherous to pass.

You are not naive, new to being butchered,
And don’t we all have sharper claws than we expect?
But we can accept our edges or
Keep carving our hearts away.