i play words like my violin
smoothly at times but harsh and rough when i forget how to play
forget what words to use
how my bow slides across
how too much vibrato can make it all sound fake
how hyperbole can make it all sound fake
motifs scattered throughout
taint the sound the words
with familiarity with nuance
with you my dear
there is no hyperbole
no vibrato needed
no need for such accenting
for you make my words
my sound smooth as chocolate from the get go


for i never understood what it meant for a kiss to be sweet,
until my lips met yours.
for i never understood what it meant for a person to be warm,
until my arms wrapped around you.
you were warm to me
accepted me even though every inch of you was scared to
was telling you to back down
and i cannot thank you enough for that

you say that your pieces are scattered
the truth is, so are mine
so lets let two perspectives persist and permit
a love that leaves lies behind and lets lips be
so that broken pieces on the floor can not be looked at as flaws
but as scores
as scars
of a past that continues to be made
only now, every atom of me wants that past to be made with you
but unfortunately my past is cursed. so, lets stay in the present.  
so that maybe our puzzle pieces when put together
present a picture

of us

in our own winter wonderland where the world can stop.
and we can love.
for i've discovered in all of our broken pieces.
that
I love you.