And your

hands on my


Your lips

on my wrist.


Are the breath

that I take

when my heart

forgets to beat.

I cannot breathe

any deeper.

You cannot get

any closer.


for you.


For your arms

holding tight.

For my smile

in your eyes.

For my legs

wrapped around.

The sound

of your exhale.

I can see.

This is right.





It isn’t until you reach Impossible that caution finally crosses your mind.

Impossible meant untouchable, unattainable, unbreakable.

And what you hoped would be impossible,

incapable of occurring,

was what left you vulnerable, wide open, broken and alone.

Bones were shattered, heart exposed, you were left to pick up the pieces.

Each shard cut like glass as you tried to tape them back together.

Hands shaking, fingers bleeding, the job was done.

You were convinced you were whole again.

Healing all wrong, patches thrown over holes, malunion, denial.

We survived, my mess of bones and I.

Limping through life. Surviving, but guarded, bracing for the worst.

Bracing to break again. Caution: Fragile.

But that is no way to live your life – disjointed and stumbling.

So how do you really heal? How do you mend this mess that you’ve made?


You bite the bullet and reset the bone.

You open the wound and drain out the bullshit.

You let go of your crutch and remember how to walk on your own.

And it takes time.

And patience.

And honesty.


But trust me when I tell you that you will eventually find comfort in never needing caution.

Find comfort in knowing that when you’ve found the one,

his hand will always find the small of your back

in the middle of the crowd that makes you anxious.

He will react before you even realize you’re in danger.

He will whisper the I Love Yous

that you didn’t know you needed to hear.

His voice will bring you peace.

No, caution will not even cross your mind.


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