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.

I am a complete being,
all on my own,
having put the pieces of myself back together when he broke them at 6 years old.

Parts of me hate other parts of me, this is true.
But those parts of me love me just as feverently as you used to
They see the things about me that you used to adore
It helps me to remember that I am flawed but beautiful

Humans aren't meant to be perfect
That's why none of us are.

The pieces of me that are more you than me don't like the parts of me that are more me than you...
but I don't know,
if that's your fault or mine,
only time will tell.

But as it stands, I'm doing fine.

Every bone in my body aches
Long silenced joints whisper and croak
And my muscles shudder in agony

I should have been resting hours ago
But she's stabbed him in the back yet again
So I will stand here and pick up all his pieces.

I will silently plead to him.
Do not go back to her. Do not go back at all.
I will smother him with "that's terrible, I wish I could fix it all for you"

I will tuck him in to sleep,
And give him the restoration he needs.
In faith. In family. In music. In life

I will feed him far more than he needs
Because all he needs now is comfort
And when he says he's going back
I will tell him that it is his choice.

It is his choice to return to a drunken psychopath

It is his choice to love someone who cannot be saved, simply because they don't want to be.

It is his choice to try to save her.

It is his choice to let her run him over, time and time again.

And I will always be here at the ready,
Warm blanket, coffee, and warm meal
In my hands.

Ready to pick up all his pieces and stick him together like glue