whole.

i guess there's a kind of beauty to brokenness,

that i've never really noticed,

your crooked smile,

snapped in places,

but still ever present,

how you never forget,

but always forgive,

even if it kills you a little,

or a lot.

how the lines on your hands,

don't tell a future,

but rather,

dreams,

wishes,

and your eyes,

although dimmer than others,

reflect galaxies of a different kind,

ones of peace,

hope, a forgotten love.

and how sometimes,

you break,

but always manage to reshape yourself,

so the punches hurt less,

how through everything,

your heart still beats,

to the unheard melody of joy,

which you said was, 

only because of you

so it hurts when i see you,

but even though you've been broken,

i hope that together,

we could be,

something like a whole.