Patch it up
The wound that keeps remembering
The bruise that blooms like a small
Dark planet
Under your skin
Patch it up
With the trembling things
A strip of borrowed mercy
A sweetness meant for later
The quiet courage of your own two hands
Patch it up
Though the tear is older than your name
Though it hums its ancient ache
Like a hymn you never learned
But somehow still know
Patch it up
Not to erase the story
But to soften its edges
To tell the hurt
That someone stayed long enough
To cover it
Patch it up
Where the light leaks through
Where the body keeps its secrets
Where healing is less miracle
And more small
Stubborn ritual
Patch it up
And when the ache returns
Offer it sweetness
Offer it warmth
Offer it the smallest tenderness
You can carry without breaking