Poems spun from the pearls in my heart.
The leftover, misshapen beads that don’t belong anywhere,
Strung together, words on a fishing line,
They finally have a home.
These orphaned parts,
The ones that ache in unnamable places
Their tender, wounded, ugly beauty
Should not be overlooked.
I hold their tiny, confused faces close
And kiss them hard.
I come home to the darkest parts of myself.
And find solace in my flaws.