on breaking

darling, you are broken

and your ruins are the worst i have ever seen

but there's two ways to look at broken pieces;
one, in a museum, behind the glass, an
excavation, darling, you
or else

             two, as a jigsaw puzzle
             i do believe you can be put together again.


i can see glimpses of the dawn
from between the cracks
        in your skin

and i know that if there was one thing that
the universe could tell you,
               it'd be that you look beautiful when you smile

but that's not what i'm here to tell you today.

i want to tell you
that you're beautiful when you're scarred;
               but not when you're bleeding

and i want to gather all of your 
one thousand pieces
and spend
putting them together,

because i know that something beautiful will come out of it.


this deep city fog
and i
have one thing in common.

when this fog
                 sets upon a city
it envelops
and embraces it
                 and doesn't leave until everything 
                 is covered in dew.

and i have been perusing your ruins for 
centuries now
           and i will not leave until you are covered
                                    in dew;
just to remind you that there will come a morning
but that's no reason
                not to enjoy the stars.

when the ash of vesuvius buried pompeii
            it was a tragedy;
          but vesuvius didn't know 
she'd immortalized a town.

darling, broken stories are the best ones
                          in two ways:

         ruins are legendary.

and two:
         broken stories have to be put together and
                   there's something about creating
    a masterpiece
that entices humans.

yes, darling, you'll be just fine.

and me?

         one day, you'll let me write down your story and i'll be standing here,
telling it.


Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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