Love as a Survivor*

Peas suck in the joy from meals.

My feet protest when I walk in heels.

I was never meant for the stage.

A fractured soul can never really age.

 

Did you not always love an abstract mess?

Something that suited your own vagueness?

Should this one function as a test?

Shall I call your love a forest?

 

A wilderness that haunts and robs

seizes a heart and directs its throbs

penetrates dreams and pushes in deeper

into the promises of a deceiver.

 

But every drop of sorrow from when you loved another

is a medal I cherish like none other.

Come closer and see how my scars shine

I fixed with gold this broken heart of mine.

*This piece is meant to be read as a reply to my previous post, ‘Love as a Deceiver.’