If love is stripped in layers

peeled in tiny ribbons 
of shredded dismissal
from the casing 
of hearts home
If love flakes away
in such small increments
dismantled by time and neglect
until it is nothing
but the dusty artifact
of a lost emotional civilization
Then surely it is also built in layers
a spackled patchwork
of small moments and small words 
that seek restoration 
rather than ruin  
that build upon the 
good bones of what
already is.
Surely each thoughtful stroke
deepens the colour rich
art of we
until the two of us 
are a living mural 
of our already shared life.  

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