Call it an afinity
for that which comes
already chipped, dented,
and bruised
say I see something still
in what they are now
and what they used to be
not even intentionally
in the business of
saving souls
just noticed how
I had saved more loves
than had ever saved me
sat back and let it
sink in
around the time
he was creepin in
speakin then
never listenin
I stopped whisperin
something's missin
the pieces of him
left possessed by them
unable to regained
I remain
still in awe of
what saw fit to stay
giving allowances
for half-hearted ways
because fixing
is how I play
as night turns to day
seeing only what I want to
ignoring all the words spoken
loving and marveling
at how beautifully broken