You were all sharp edges;
twisted and mangled.
She was all soft and gentle;
each curvature of her face coming to meet the next one with ease.
You were rough, torn apart, half-heartedly put back together, guarded.
She was nurtured, loved, protected, outspoken.
You were extreme, gasoline stained boots, matted hair, and a permanent smirk.
She was calm, eyeshadow never out of place, perfect hair, and lip gloss stained kiss.
You were bloody knuckles with flecks of dirt, broken skin, and bleeding lips kissed roughly with hair tugged, needing more.
She was the plaster on a broken bone, a bandage to cover the absence, and not enough to go around.
You were sunrises seen with insomniac eyes, cigarette smoke at midnight, and all too explosive.
She was a good night’s sleep and no circles under your eyes, clean air in a crowded city, safe.
You were afraid to touch her for fear she would break,
She was scared to touch you for fear that she would break you.
You were both ignorant, stupid, foolish, young,
Now she’s rough edges, husky voice in the morning from nightmares that never end, and a touch that is never as careful as it used to be.
Now you are fine lines, marble with smooth indents which form words, a smiling picture on the wall of a school; in a year book; next to your Mother.
Finally, she has given you what you needed: calm.
Finally, you have driven her to be what she thought she could never be: chaotic.