The  notion
of being alive and
whole for me

has always tasted indifference
toward the tip of my
tongue because there are still
stoic days in which I constantly doubt
the way those living flesh
and ignited bones

inspecting each and every
indominatable fragments
of myself
so much that I began to wonder

if they would still perceive me the same
way they did
despite after knowing
the depht of the raised tissues built
upon the he surface of my
twisted collarbones

and the truth is that
I dont carry within the
marrow of my bones these improbable
shards of what
they supposed to be indelible

and
    broken
for unjustified sins

it is only
on rare occassions
that I stand the privilege
to meet someone like

you
-- who reminds me that
I will still be worthy
for the gift of trust

and love
albeit the disintergrated thoughts I
have had
of myself