247/365: Love Remakes You

The heart breaks
in a thousand hundred ways,
slivers and pinpricks
to great gores run through you,
leaving your ruin steaming on the ground.
The heart slumps heavy and wet against your spine
and says no more, no more, no more
when it forgets that this is all beautiful,
each wreck an exquisite invitation,
a tattooed history that bears the record of your birthing.
Each crushing vice after too long hope,
each muscle fibre rent from its own bonds:
these are gorgeous, perfect fires,
hot and white,
or the distant, cold ache of old teeth,
thudding and bruised,
These craft your steel or thieve by suffocation
but always leave veinous maps back to your dawn
knotting now and then together in a thick history
moving to its north.
Wholeness is when you are no longer new,
wholeness is when when you collect your parts,
wholeness is when you make your account,
noting each new course that runs through you now.
Love requires these remains,
all the ones you gather now
and all the ones you've carried with you from before.
It builds its path through the wreck of you.
Love remakes you.

I am writing one poem every day in 2016, and I am using the hashtag #365poems to document my progress.