I wrote this in a letter and I signed it in red pen,
But I couldn’t watch you open it.

Love, is easy
In love, is not,
But darling
You are my flower pot.
Terracotta sold and bought
At the corner market down the street
And I wish that you could see
Just how beautiful you are.

But yes
I can see your scars.
Broken pieces shattered bits
And I can’t know the pain of it.
Glued together but all in vain
‘Cause they won’t fit.

How could they?

A mess of sharp clay shards and hot glue.
This is what you see in you,
But I see a flickering light.
Through the gaps, fractures, and scars
I see an infinity of stars
And this is who I think you are
And Darling
This is who I know you are.

You’re my Terracotta soldier
War-torn from battles that you fight
But Darling,
You
Are made
To hold
A light.
An imperfect structure of splintering lines
And you have holes and you are broken and you will never be correct.
But imagine if you were.
Mathematically perfect and perfectly sound,
Now tell me.
How would the light shine out?

I wrote this in a letter and signed it in red pen,
But I couldn’t watch you open it.
And on that page where the pen writes too hard
Those indentations, they are my scars.
Hand written in my handmade brail
My hands are shaking, broken and frail.

I left a tear at the bottom of the page
A reminder to you
Of the leaking holes in my hollow face.
I to am imperfectly made.
But I
Am made
To hold
A light
I know my fissures are fault lines
But Darling, I will be fine
And I will be your flower pot.

Well we can’t hold sand and we can’t hold water.
But Darling,
We will hold tight to each other
A Terra cotta soldier,
And a broken flower pot.
We have cracks and scars that time forgot.
But we are bright
And bold
And finger paint stricken
With too many patterns
And swirls that sea-sicken the mind
But I will be yours
And you will be mine