With a quiet sigh
You healed
My stilted self,
In essence,
Torn paper.
Knitted back together
With an unfamiliar thread.
Nothing could compare
To the crease in your cheek
As you half smile at me,
Regarding me
As something beautiful.
You are my eyes,
& I yours,
For love is not
The attempt to better.
It is the recognition
Of what lay within
All along.