Like a chipped teacup
I lent you my heart.
You held it so perfectly, briefly
Your gifted fingers ran over the hairline fractures that
I didn’t know were still there.
You were just mending cups.
You chose to accept the paper-thin weight
Of a cup you didn’t even own.
No fear made you nervous; you don’t smash things.
You plunged straight into the silty water unafraid
For your own safety.
You were just mending cups. Just mending cups.
You had the warm water
That bathed the inside, the song
Broke the silence as your hands moved around.
But the cup slips under
Afraid of this change.
Porcelain whispers are set in the curve
Secreted grains that withstand all balm
Your soft skin is sliced by your care.
The chips will remain.
Those chips will remain.