Mosaic Shards

Love is a mystery, not because of what causes it 

or why it even happens 

but because it almost doesn't exist

I know enough to say that love was not in the way  

he cheated on me 

after I defended him until the end  

It was not in her screams 

telling a fragile child  

she was no longer loved 

It was not in the tears I have shed  

because I cannot look at my skin 

after he touched me 

and I couldn't have stopped him 

Love was in none of these places

So there is no love in me 

I, do not love me 

because I cannot distinguish between 

the hate I have for myself 

and they hate they reigned on me 

I know not of love 

and yet, I see it 

like dandelions 

breaking through the cruel  

and unforgiving cement 

It is in the way he fought me, 

fought the vicious, scared beast 

living in my head   

He turned my shattered remains  

into the start  

of a colorful, stunning stained glass 

mosaic 

and when he left me, 

as I knew he would, 

I felt love. 

It wasn't betrayal. 

I have seen betrayal,  

and its evil lies in  

"I love you"s  

and 

"this is for your own good"

It hides in hugs and gifts 

bought to make up for  

abuse 

and  

almost killing your family 

in front of you 

Love is when he told me  

he was leaving me 

because we were happier apart  

then we were together 

Love is in the fact he knew this 

before the thought 

had even crossed my mind 

Love is what he gave me,  

the start 

of loving myself 

even if he no longer did 

Love is in tears and feeling empty 

but coming out proud of myself 

instead of ruined