When weakness is synonymous with triumph
and your heart bleeds red into a pen filling empty spaces with words that only spell truth,
know that this love is not going to be easy.
There is nothing small about this love.
No,
it commands attention, demands candour
It takes up all of your time,
yearns for all of your secrets
Bares its teeth in the face of your fears.
This mosaic love is needy,
and it will not rest until it knows every blackened corner of you,
every crack, every seam, every stitch
Let it in.
Let it light the way.
Let this love do its work, I promise you won't regret it.
On learning to love oneself