You once asked me why I loved you
You once asked me why I loved you.
I didn’t know what to say.
Because you are kind,
like a viper, killing quickly.
Or because you’re wicked smart,
like a jungle cat stalking its prey.
Because you see me, deeply,
that much is true.
I didn’t know what to say,
so I didn’t say anything at all.
In the silence that has settled
in the years and the space
since that moment,
the answer has clawed its way out
from its deep place of hiding.
I loved you because you are broken
in all the same ways
that I am broken.
And I found solace there.
Loving the broken in you,
I begin to love the broken in me,
and through that love
I piece myself together,
fragile yet whole.