PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I wish I could say that I grew up in a house with parents with a fairy tale marriage. 

I wish I could say that I know exactly how love is supposed to look, how love is supposed to be shown,

But I can't. 

I know what destruction looks like. 

I learned at an early age how to wear another face, another skin

That prevented the world from seeing how my insides really looked. 

I know bitterness. 

I know apathy. 

I know sadness. 

Now, enters you

With your calm eyes 

And a voice that seems to never stop singing. 

Were you sent to repair this damage? 

Are you supposed to help heal parts of me that I can't show anyone? 

All I do know is that the way you play with my hair makes me feel like a child,

And the way you run your hand across my arm makes mountains inside of me weep. 

You slide your arm around me and I finally feel like I've made it home,

Like I can finally leave my shoes at this door.