Orchids

He found me lost.
And waited while I took my time
and his.
He held me when he saw you in my eyes
And apologized
for the things you could never be
sorry enough for.
He took those little broken pieces
In his calloused hands
And worked them until they
Healed back together.
He touched me like I was fragile…
looked at me like I’m a story he could not believe
someone was telling him.
And when I showed him, regretfully,
the places I could still feel the dirt and filth
you left behind,
He used it as a place to plant
My favorite flower.

That Which Devastates

Around is that which you have slept.

A broken cry is that which I have wept.

A promise is that which you have not kept.

Save your “sorry” for the ledge from which I have leapt.