Whole
Poem
A broken boy
Came to me
One night
Holding the shattered pieces of his heart.
Cradled in his hands;
He offered them to me...
And the shards
Were so sharp;
They cut my fingers
And further fell apart...
My palms were raw
And bleeding,
But still, I held the pieces;
Fragile and oh so frail...
Unable to repair
The damage that was done,
I kissed the tears from his cheeks
And swallowed every shard he'd given to me...
Like razors on the throat,
They stung
And burned,
Tearing my tongue to shreds...
But I would not regret;
Not even for a moment
And I would not forget,
The precious gift he'd had to give...
So he stood before me,
Watching as I choked;
Devouring the jagged
Pieces of his heart...
A lonesome,
Broken boy,
That in return,
I gave up my own heart instead...
I took up his hands
Painting them in
Crimson
With the throbbing cuts that bled...
And slipped them
Right into my chest.
Bittersweet fingertips,
Grasping at my racing heart...
His grip was tight,
But oh so gentle
As he carefully pulled it
From my breast...
And so it was;
My beating heart
Took up the place
Where his shattered one had been...
And I kissed his lips then,
Dying them too
In deep, russet hues
To match that of our hands...
And as the salt of his tears
Pained upon my skin,
I whispered,
Oh so softly,
"Don't you cry for this, my love;
My beautiful,
Broken boy,
For I've just made you
Whole again..."
Copywritten to Xander Bradeshaw.