Healing Love

Her eyes reflect an emotion I thought I was incapable of feeling.

They told me I was too damaged and it made me unappealing.

And I believed them. Because truly why wouldn't I?

My parents cared more about causing bruises and chasing a world-escaping high

than wrapping me in safety and comfort, warmth and family.

They were just words in a dictionary, along with satisfaction and happily.

Broken shards of a china plate, wrong side of the tracks, rough.

Wrong for the girl of silk whose love trickled past my defenses so tough.

My edges would only tear her into shreds,

destroy the best of her and leave it hanging by a thread.

But her love sanded the edges away, leaving behind a smoothness

that rivals feathers, pebbles, and her favorite red satin dress.

She calmed me with soothing words, engulfing me in serenity

like my favorite lake; undisturbed, a mirror for the sky, the picture of clarity.

Her hands glided over my scarred body as if she was trying to replace its memories anew

Now I feel like a polished gem, shiny and new, through and through.

Her love, pure, all-encompassing, and smooth

is the most safe and comforting, warm and healing of truths.