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.