Both shattered deeply yet hoped,
Found in the bittersweet of the wreckedge that we called home.
Both found in fragments yet healed,
Like the bloom crawling beneath the ashes of what we called home.
Both torn-apart yet smiled,
So that the beauty of untouched could shine.

We both loved,
Loved the things that hurt us the most.
We both cared,
Cared the things that ruined us the most.
We both trusted,
Trusted to the people who wounded us the most.
We both learned,
Learned the things that made us who we are.

We became the cracks that matched,
Together despite it all.
We stichted by the same storm,
Together as a whole.
We wore our wounds like vows,
Together not like anyone else we know.

Love after the fall,
Felt like nothing else before.
Love in the ruins of us,
Nobody else could do ever before.
Love of the scent,
The babylike smell that one could ever wish for.
Love between those lips,
Something that addicts more and more.

The things that I love most,
Hidden behind your every move.
The things that I adore most,
Hidden behind the heavenly eyes of yours.

This unfed breath feels the blessedness of reciting  
the poems about your hearty leanness  
that cannot be empty of loyalty.  

Your guardable luminary is  
sentinelled with spangly patience.  

I need you in my days  
of laughing and crying.  
Your enamored grin always  
helps me to move on.  

It provides an indefeasible crest of  
devotion, dealing with all the locus of control.  

An entrée of your elaborated  
gamut keeps my hope alive.  

The flight of yearning and  
longing tears away  
all my grief.  
To make a combination with this,  
can you create a circular path on  
the surface to protect my babylike lamentations?  

Your voice, as usual, shines off  
the revolving solidarity around my heart and its poetic hope.  
©shivpoetesspriya