By Amber Sharps
I've lived before you. Eyes full of love and battle scars, and I can't help but to be thankful that hearts were made to heal. So I wouldn't have to come to you in broken pieces.
My heart is comfortable in your hands. This treacherous organ is a battle ground. Yet you eagerly suit up to fight a war you never asked for. I admire that kind of bravery.
I try to match your courage, not by picking up a weapon, but by putting mines down. By ripping out this shield that has become embedded into my flesh.
You see, I want to be strong enough to let you love me.
You scale this emotional barrier. You kiss my laughter until it resembles a sound I was once acquainted with. You caress my smile until it gets amnesia and forgets how to disappear.
A man who petitions God on my behalf when I can't find the words to. You see, you are my favorite blessing.
You are an amazing story teller. You find strength in my vulnerabilities. My weaknesses are written in braille. And your fingers trace my wounds and you read back to me a version of myself I am not familiar with.
I trust you with the worst parts of me. You're familiar with the bone structure of the skeletons in my closet. And while I hoped they would forever remain strangers to you, I am forever grateful that you find beauty in broken things.
My cracks don't take away from my value, instead it gives you more space to love me. Completely filling open hollows until they are sealed.
Yet, you don't complete me, you just love me through my healing so that I can be whole on my own. And that's ok, because I can love you a lot better when there's more of me.
You are my favorite love poem. And true love is endless, so I'll never quite put this pen down. I'll just be here, loving you, and writing about it as we go.