Jagged Edges

I know she left you broken

She shattered glass windows inside your heart.

The jagged edges still bite your soft skin

whenever you try to assess the damage within.

I’m standing here in front of you with more than a first aid kit

— a willing surgeon

You don’t see me.

You open your mouth to say nothing but I already know my dear.

Your mind is somewhere far far away from here.

It’s knee deep in snow praying —

that the memories of her somehow

turn into band-aids.

Just remember

Band-aids can absorb blood but they can not mend wounds.

The only one who can do that is you.

You won’t be able to predict the healing.

It comes without a timeline.

I promise it will be like when you fell off your tricycle

and scraped your knee for the first time.

You crashed and yelled as you bled onto the pavement.

Mama ran to you from the house with bandaids.

You fell asleep with one leg outside your blanket because

the pain was so raw

even you yourself dared not touch it.

The next day the band-aid fell off in the shower

no matter how hard you tried to save it.

Water clung to your scab

but you sort of liked it.

You watched your band-aid become useless.

Your knee stung less but looked a little different.

The skin was pale but sensitive.

The pain that once made you cry

is just a distant memory blended within the clouds.

Your knee never looked the same after that

but you can run marathons now.

I’m writing you this poem because

I know you can not love me now,

as deep as I am ready to love you.

I am writing you this poem because I know that you will make it though.

You won’t be the same but you will emerge brand new.

This is my heart singing hoping one day you hear my song.

There is so much love waiting for you

after you learn to move on.

Soul mates are boomerangs

So I’ll throw you away now and if you come back

I’ll catch you smiling with both my hands.

What I want more than anything

is to watch you reclaim yourself.

Build a better version of you.

Chase your dreams and just live.

Trust me I know

what it’s like to have people scream

“let go”

As if you and her were dull scribbles entangled on a whiteboard

waiting to be erased by a few simple strokes of a brush.

Darling please remember there is no rush.

What you two were together was art.

But this ending is just another start.

There is no need to erase.

No need to be ashamed.

The beauty of letting go lies in the embrace.

Do you know what they call art that is painted on?

Art.