Hearts have been beaten
Trodden to the core
Fragmented and sodden in the pressing downpour
Cracked open as a hatchet strikes door
That's one way to let the sunlight in
The walls are bare but the sun enters the room
The shadow cast from what once thought filled the occupying lair
Now the contrast is obvious and the vision aware
Though without the break would we be
Without the contrast would we see
Would we need to
The home would still be the shelter but would we walk around with our eyes closed forever bumping into things
Blaming the surroundings for how we have let ourselves live
The opposition could be viewed as a gift
The awakening to our own being
The mending through the seeing, the feeling, the believing, the deceiving
The door doesn't need a replacement
The living room just needs some internal consideration
To furnish the home with love
Own hearts decoration

Maybe it was the sleepy way your voice would read me to sleep each night but I was pretty sure I had never known love until then.

It could have been the way you brought me hot chocolate with whipped cream when I was sad because you know those little things mean everything.

And I’m not sure really when it began but I know that once I looked into those eyes I felt my whole world tilt and turn.

I’ve spent my whole life trying to find words to explain love and how it feels.

Little did I know the words were already written they were just being read by the wrong narrator for my story.