You are a million little pieces made up of every moment,
The blood you’ve spilt; the beds you’ve inhabited; the injuries you’ve inflicted.
Broken by each lie you ever bought; each betrayal you tasted.
You are every body you’ve sweated under; every secret smile; every door left ajar.
You are shards of angry words: the words that cut you still.
The debris of every disappointment, of everyone that tried to hold you back,
Jostles for attention among the victories and the fuck yous.
You are pieces so precious and rare,
Seldom seen, they almost cease to exist, hidden behind the jagged edges of fear; in the dark crevices of fractured trust –
Cherished pieces, only entrusted to the one who knows.
You are unbreakable remnants,
Forged from years of those who took what wasn’t offered freely;
From those who failed to give a fraction of what was due.
There are other pieces of you, so brittle;
A single look, a word, a lie, an omission, and they would shatter into a thousand more.
All in or all out.
Let me love all of your pieces: all the polished-up, spat-out, bull-shit, broken-down, burned-out, ugly, monstrous, rusted, beautiful, real, fragments of you.
Then can I love you broken.