healers

We who have been torn apart
are best suited to repair your battle wounds.
Our type is people with scarred arms,
broken hearts, and shattered minds,
crawling to make it back to whole.
Their wounds tell their beautiful stories and
all our damaged places are mirrored in them.
Our specialty is stitching them back together
and letting them leave with pieces of us.
There are days when
we cling to their shadows by our fingernails.
Like birds with healed wings,
we are nervous to release them.
Skin to skin, scars aligned, and then let go.
There are moments when our clothes smell of the blood
we have washed from others’ injuries,
long after the stains have been scrubbed from the fabric.
We believe we can fill the cracks in their hearts and minds,
love them enough to smooth their rough edges.
Sometimes they are sharp enough to make us bleed
but we can’t help ourselves.
Sometimes when we say goodbye it’s a lie on our lips
because we expect that someday
we will say hello again.
The one who heals you can’t be your forever;
they have seen too much of you.
We are no one’s forever,
for we are the forever healers:
Stitching you back to whole
so someone else can think you’re perfect.

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