Bandage Poem by Sumitra Mishra (nee Balakrishnan)

I am not the first you loved,
nor you the first I beheld with a mouthful of forevers.
Loss, a blade's keen edge, has grazed us both,
and we've lived with lips, with more scar than skin.

Our love arrived unannounced, midnights embracing us,
when we'd relinquished pleas for its advent.
A miracle, I deem it, part of the healing we seek.
Kisses shall flow like forgiveness, embraces cradling hope.

In our arms, we become bandages, pressing promises
between us, blossoms within the pages of our shared book.
Sonnets will unfold to the salt of your skin's sweat,
novels spun around the scar etched upon your crown.

A lexicon shall take form, housing words
that strive to capture the feeling of finally, finally finding you.
Fear of your scars, I help you discard,
knowing sometimes it's difficult to reveal your cracked perfection.

Yet, understand, whether you blaze brighter than the sun,
or collapse into my lap, body fractured into a myriad of questions,
you remain the most beautiful thing my eyes have beheld.
I shall love you through a thousand still days and hurricane nights.