The deep stitches that mark my flesh
Are medals from battles worn with pride
The wounds that line her battered heart
Moisten her breath with tears she’s cried
Me, the lonely beach boy surviving broken love
She, an indigo child tangled, a hand without a glove
It was my role to be the valiant knight
To rescue her from the pain of broken dreams
Bravely fighting off the slings and arrows
I was rescued by the poet in tattered jeans
I normally don’t post on Fridays, but my Poetry Muffin needs to read my words. And her wish is my demand.
Photo credit: Nandita.