Come Let us slice into each other With fine surgical precision You slash me here I slash you there And then When the storm is done I will patch you up And you tuck me up You bring the bucket I the mop the blood And together we will cleanse Our ancient hurts Our guilts And our fears Until we start again And over a cup of coffee You tell me My dear Just how much you love me And I shall tell you Just how much I love you.
Together, under a clear blue sky
It's true, we can get so hung up on our hurts we can miss the opportunities they can give us. I think some scars are medals, though, as some are hard won. Great poem, RK.
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