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I am not the first person you’ve cared for.
You are not the first person I’ve looked at with a mouthful of forevers.
We have both known loss like the sharp edges of a knife.
We have both lived with lips more scar tissue than skin.
Our chance came unannounced in the middle of the night.
Our chance came when we had both given up on asking love to come.
I think that has to be part of its miracle.

This is how we heal.
I will kiss you like forgiveness.
You will hold me like I am hope.
Our arms will bandage and we will press promises between
us like flowers in a book.
I will write sonnets to the salty sweat on your skin.
I will write novels to the scars on your body.
I will write a dictionary of all the words I have used trying to
describe the way it feels to have finally, finally found you.

And I promise to not be afraid of your scars.

I know sometimes it’s still hard to let me see you in all your
cracked perfection,
But please know:
Whether it’s the days you burn more brilliant than the sun,
Or the nights you collapse into my lap,
Your body broken into a thousand questions…
You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

I will adore you when you are a still day.
I will adore you when you are a hurricane.



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