My Broken Poet
You apologize for your brokenness
As though cracked things cannot still hold light.
You gather your shattered pieces
With trembling hands,
Certain no one could ever love
A heart that has survived so much.
But I have read enough poetry
To know the most beautiful verses
Are never written on untouched pages.
They are stained with tears,
Folded by time,
Scarred by the weight of being carried
Through impossible scenarios.
You call yourself damaged.
I call you a masterpiece still being written.
I have watched you turn pain into metaphors,
Heartbreak into sonnets,
Loneliness into constellations of ink,
That somehow makes strangers feel less alone.
You search for beauty
In abandoned things,
Wilted flowers,
And skies split apart by storms.
Oh, my broken poet...
You were never difficult to love.
You simply learned too well
How to believe the voices that confused abandonment with truth.
Come here.
Lay down the armor forged from old betrayals.
Set aside the pen for a moment.
You do not have to earn affection
With eloquent verses.
Or hide your scars behind clever metaphors.
Let me be the one to love you
On the days your poems refuse to bloom.
Let me be the one to hold the silence between your words.
Because love is not meant to repair every crack.
It is meant to remind you
That you are worthy
Even with every one of them.
And if one day you find yourself writing about me,
I hope it’s not because I fixed you.
I hope it’s because I sat beside your ruins,
Taking your shaking hand in mine while showing you what you had forgotten
That even the most broken poet,
Has always been a love poem waiting to believe in itself.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
