A Reminder for the Fridge:

1.
You can’t see the bruises on my heart.
And I can’t see yours.
The old ones. The fresh ones.
The ones that never healed.
The ones we protect most.

2.
If we spend decades
In each other’s company,
We might have a glancing understanding
Of the injuries,
But we still fumble
With slippery fingers,
Less dexterous than we hoped,
Pressing hard on those bruises,
Quickening the familiar wary ache.

3.
I am sorry for that.
As perhaps you are?
I am sorry.
Especially to those
Who I love or did love most.

4.
I have forgiven
You and you and you.
As I hope you have forgiven me.
I have forgiven you and you and you
Even when I press my own bruises
As if to remind myself
Of my vulnerable precious heart
In this flimsy ribcage of mine.

5.
But, like you, this heart
Doggedly wants to love and be loved.
Despite the bruises. Yours and yours
And yours and mine.
So shall we proceed with care?
Remembering there might be bruises.
Doing our best
To hold each other with
Tender softness and
Gentle wisdom of the injury.

Just a reminder for the fridge.
About bruises and forgiveness and love.