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you let me break


weave your fingers

through my hair as

a spider weaves its

web.

cocoon me in your

arms,

encased, cradled,

warm.

how do you do that?

keep your composure

even as i crumble.

you let me break

upon your chest

tears stolen from oceans 

crashing, 

roaring, 

soaking, 

seeping.

unspoken, yet everything is in the open. 
you let me break, 

unravelling secrets

that were buried for too long.

not an ounce of judgement in your eyes.

you listen, 

i see you staring outside

watching the ground

to see if the earthquakes of my body 

make it shake.

you let me break,

completely.

and after everything has been said and done

you pick up the pieces

of my brokenness 

that had fallen to the floor.

protecting,

fixing,

healing.

as my glazed eyes meet yours,

i know that

i 

am

home. 

 

 

 

 

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Harshita Tripathi

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