Beautiful Chaos

A poem about chaotic love, survival, and beauty found in what’s broken.

There’s a kind of silence
only shared
by people who both know
the love is kind̶
but never wild enough
to write about.
Ours was never that kind of silence...

Beautiful Chaos

we didn’t write poetry.
we were poetry
shattered frames of better days,
slammed doors,
beds still warm with sweat, salt, and silence,
and screams, raw as war cries.

a symphony of mistakes
that somehow made music
only we could dance to.

but we endured
through wreckage and rage,
we stitched the sacred
from every torn seam.

what began as wildfire
became forge̶
heat and pressure
made ruins radiant.

we built love
like a cathedral from rubble,
each scar a stained-glass window,
each bruise a testament

and so we shine,
not because we were unbroken,
but because we broke
and stayed.

we became both holy and haunted.
the wounds our words once opened have healed—
though some scars still speak.
there is a beauty found only in imperfection.

when the world calls for quiet,
we answer with knowing glances
and embers flickering beneath stillness.

we speak in a language
forged in ash,
etched in smoke,
sealed in nights
we thought would destroy us.

what we have now
cannot be undone̶
not by storms,
not by time,
because we’ve already
survived each othe