beauty, love, masculinity, poetry, women

fire in the broken places

Apart from things

Which no longer hurt

Bled until my limbs grew numb

But walked until it clotted

There’s more to me

Than my failings 

Temporary flaws

Burned to flakes of white ash

In the fire of my determination,

so you see,

I am careful and quiet

In my appreciation

a warm arrogance 

and informed by

the quiet knowledge

I know I will survive

But touch my broken places

I’m stronger there

And does your touch

Reach past to the warmth

Which exudes there

Makes your palms damp

With its roiling heat.

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