Why throw yourself at stone and stars?
Bright things can’t hold a breaking soul.
Wounded things find solace in each other’s scars
And hands that know the handle blade
Can still another’s violent storms.

Two cracked people fit together better
Than two ivory gods—whose perfect hearts
Don’t skip a beat, or speed or slow.
Or shudder when they’re touched by hands
That could wring blood, or slowly stroke to bliss.

Two birds fighting in a cage make better love
Than statues carved to last forever
Decades old—yet just a breath
Representing love’s great prize:
The reason fighting rubs us raw.