Loving with what is left.
You took the part of me that cared the most.
The part that loved unconditionally.
That could trust and believe in the good of another human.
All of the positive feels that poured out of me and could give more than I thought possible.
You took them all and shattered them.
The force was profound and violent.
Then you gave them back with a scoff, and a "sorry about your luck" attitude.
Wrecked. Damaged. Destroyed.
I slowly put everything back the best I could.
The shards surely cutting me and anyone who attempted to help hold them.
To help hold me, and put me back together.
I healed, gradually, deliberately.
I continued to search for those last few pieces among the wreckage,
But there are parts forever missing.
Left to love with what I have left
From your brutal ways.
Now, he deserves those pieces.
Lost over you.
I learned to accept and love me anyway.
He will too, because he knows they are missing.
His calloused hands have endured his own recovery.
Broken and patched back together,