Writers Jam

there are two stories about you.

one that sits on your tongue like fire,
rendering you to ash and i am left alone,
cradling your bones,
searching for your warmth.

one full of tragedy you say, no wait— you insist.
you insist that you are destined for ruin.
that you must weep a thousand tears to earn your breaths in this world.
like a dying man’s final wish,
you engrave your story in the lines of my palms and say
“here, this is the ruin you are willing to love.”

and willing i am. here is the story of my baby from my eyes:

when i bid farewell to the sweet slumber and sun kisses my eyes through the window, i open them and see you beside me, doused in soft shades of pink and my lips. that’s my baby.

your eyes closed, your chest rising steadily, your beating heart carrying mine. the sun does shine but i seek my light in the galaxies you carry. that’s my baby.

the first sip of coffee full of milk and cream and sugar, and yet it is the first morning kiss from your lips that jolts my body awake and i am alive again. that’s my baby.

when i lace my shoes and step out the door, but it’s your hands that search for mine immediately, holding me firmly, anchoring me through this busy world. that’s my baby.

when i bite into the food and my hair flows and gets into my face, you softly, gently brush it back, tuck it behind my ear, and plant soft kisses on my cheeks. that’s my baby.

when i’m on the couch wrapped in a blanket and flipping through the pages of my book, you walk over, wrap yourself around me, and hold me until i am warm. that’s my baby.

you may think you are cursed but you are my sacred prayer, my baby.
you are not the pages of a torn manuscript, you are the love letter i am writing, my baby.
thousand storms later, you are the rain that bloomed my heart back into life, my baby.
you are not your scars but the poetry i write, doused in rain and music and kisses, my baby.
you may think you are ruin but you are the walls of my home, my baby.

there are two stories about you - your version and mine.
in mine, i press your name to my lips and tell the world,
my baby is worth saving, worth loving, worth holding
in my arms, in my future, in my breaths
all mine, all mine, all mine.