I am not the first person you loved.
You are not the first person I 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 love came
unannounced in the middle of the night.
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’m hope.
Our arms will bandage and we will press promises between us like flowers in a book.
I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat on your skin.
I will write novels to the scar
of your nose.
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 will 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 love you when you are a still day.
I will love you when you are a hurricane.
– Clementine von Radics