Every time
you hold me
you break a part of me
your grasp is so weak
that I easily
slip through
your past
to see
that these splinters
between us
has nothing
to do with me
This friction
in your embrace
is no touch of grace
but open scars
with broken jars
of deep love
that now arms you
and still harms you
who choose
to scar
that which scarred you,
sparingly
allowing those
broken jars
to protect you
from loving me
But if you would just
put your palm
on your face
and move it slowly
then maybe you'll feel
what you cannot see
that great power
you have given
unreservedly
to your pain
again
Copyright©2021 by Camille Caliscia Patrick
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