our mosaic

If I were to open my chest to you,  

offer you my beating heart, you’d notice it is a mosaic.  

Tiny shards with sharp edges,  

smoothed out because they are pieces of us.  

They are colourful; I wish to display them for the world to see.  

Look, I'd say,  

these yellows are for the marigolds that bloomed where we stood, 

and these blues are for the skies we’d build castles in together, 

and these pinks are because our flesh is one and the same. 

Look, I’d say,  

the gold iridescent between the lines is for 

the sun that kissed our memories, 

the silver looping through the curves is for 

the moon that cradled our peace in her hands. 

If I were to open my chest to you,  

offer you my beating heart,  

you’d run your fingers over the cracks,  

your callouses a comforting scrape.  

I’d clasp your hands, 

so we could cradle it together, 

and read the stories the shards spell out.