Easter

 

Tattoo your pain on me

With your tears as erasers

Your regret as markers

Black and blues as the ink

That scribbles years and years

Of your story.

 

But the story changes

And with your tears

You start over.

You scream the pain,

You dig your nails

You breathe in the sorrow

Hoping the black and blues are enough

 

But they aren't.

 

So you add red.

Hoping your blood stings

Almost as bad

As the other dark hues of hurt

Of sorrow

Of pain.

 

But it doesn't.

 

And you frantically search

For a something sharper

Something deeper

But your hands slip

And you use your bloody hands

To stable yourself

 

 

But you fall,

 

More tears erasing your story.

More fear gathering.

More hope failing.

 

 

Until I use my own love

To gather you in my arms

And kiss away your pain

And wipe away your fear

And breathe hope into your damaged lungs.

 

I tell you that I won't leave you

 

And that whenever you need markers

You can use my blood.

Whenever you need erasers

You can use my tears.

Whenever you need to stand

Use can my hands.

 

Because I'm here.

For you.

So believe.

And feel.

And love.

And accept.

And see.

Me.