Terra Cotta

I wrote this in a letter and I signed it in red pen, But I couldn’t watch you open it. Love, is easy In love, is not, But darling You are my flower pot. Terracotta sold and bought At the corner market down the street And I wish that you could see Just how beautiful you are. But yes I can see your scars. Broken pieces shattered bits And I can’t know the pain of it. Glued together but all in vain ‘Cause they won’t fit. How could they? A mess of sharp clay shards and hot glue. This is what you see in you, But I see a flickering light. Through the gaps, fractures, and scars I see an infinity of stars And this is who I think you are And Darling This is who I know you are. You’re my Terracotta soldier War-torn from battles that you fight But Darling, You Are made To hold A light. An imperfect structure of splintering lines And you have holes and you are broken and you will never be correct. But imagine if you were. Mathematically perfect and perfectly sound, Now tell me. How would the light shine out? I wrote this in a letter and signed it in red pen, But I couldn’t watch you open it. And on that page where the pen writes too hard Those indentations, they are my scars. Hand written in my handmade brail My hands are shaking, broken and frail. I left a tear at the bottom of the page A reminder to you Of the leaking holes in my hollow face. I to am imperfectly made. But I Am made To hold A light I know my fissures are fault lines But Darling, I will be fine And I will be your flower pot. Well we can’t hold sand and we can’t hold water. But Darling, We will hold tight to each other A Terra cotta soldier, And a broken flower pot. We have cracks and scars that time forgot. But we are bright And bold And finger paint stricken With too many patterns And swirls that sea-sicken the mind But I will be yours And you will be mine