I fall a little in love with anyone who shows me their broken soul,
I get stuck on their flaws,
The rawness of their unguarded honesty in this guarded world.
I myself am broken – the realization and admission of it has set me free.
Free to see myself in pieces, free to recraft myself, free to love myself.
I know a man that says he’s broken,
I spend my days listening to his beautifully spoken, voiceless, sad words.
But my God when I look at that man all I can do is smile.

Somehow I’ll get through to your tangled messy brain that your pieces are mesmerizing,
That every piece is full of potential and breathtaking.
We’re mosaics crafted by our 2 am talks when were tired as hell,
A paradox of purity and sin - a cracked diamond; a perfect flaw.

The truth is we are both forever alone people.
But maybe I like you more when you’re half asleep in my bed.