I am not your first love.
You are not the first person I have looked at with a mouthful of possible forevers.
We have known more heartache than most, loosing hope in love stories
Because we have both known loss like the jagged edges of a dull knife.
We had given up on love.
Our love came unannounced in the middle of the night.
Our love came without forage or fight.
It came when we had given up on asking love to come.
But here we are your hand in mine laughing, under the setting sun.
I will write poems to the pieces of you that you can’t seem to find, like they got stolen or lost along the way to find a home. I will write novels to the scars above your waist. I will write a dictionary of all the words I have used trying to describe the way that it feels to have finally found you. I will kiss you with forgiveness because you will never be forgot.
I will not be afraid of your scars and worn out pages, because even if it’s hard to let me see you in all your cracked perfection I want you to know
That wether it is the days you burn
More brilliant than the sun,
Or the nights spent cradling a bottle of rum
To wash away thoughts of yesterday
You are the one who stole my heart, and that’s something I find so hard to give.
I will love you when you are a still day,
And I will love you when you are a hurricane.
Because no mater how bad the rain
There’s always sunshine after a storm.