We don’t match on paper
and that’s all you see
because you don’t know 
how trauma moves.
Paper is only two dimensional.
It has no depth,
and that’s where we’ve been -
to a place you’ve never dared to look.

We have traveled through the underworld,
stared pain in the face,
and learned how to bear it.
We’ve flirted with madness,
laughed in the face of death,
and writhed alone in the darkness.

You see us together
at a coffee shop
on a Sunday morning
and you stare
with a confused look.

You can’t see past his
crooked teeth,
tattoos,
and muscular arms.
You don’t see his heart,
his soul,
or his mind.

You can’t see past my
straight teeth,
the sparkle in my eye,
or my laugh.  
You don’t see
the imperceptible scars,
the lessons,
or the cracks in my mind.

You assume that what you see
is all there is.
We have more in common
than you could ever guess,
because of what we’ve seen
and what we’ve survived.