People talk about us in hushed tones,
They watch us in the same way
That you watch a car crash.
And they whisper about us,
In the same way that you are taught not
to speak ill of the dead.

People talk about us,
In memoriam,
In peace,
In pieces.

People talk about us,
As if all we did was break,
As if we were just two people who shattered,
As if we were something unbearably tragic,
And there weren’t enough splinters of us,
To make mosaic hearts out of.

But all I remember,
Are cracks around your eyes.
You laughed so hard that,
It left geoglyphs in the soft expanse of your skin.

And I loved you,
I loved your Nazca laughter lines.
I remember fearlessly,
Furiously,
Loving you.

People talk about us,
As if all we did was break.
But everything that has broken,
Was once gorgeously whole.

We broke many times.
But we loved so many more.