Little pieces put together
a mosaic of memories,
tiny bits that make it whole,
like a cracked window,
through which people see.
A tired broken heart,
of jagged glass that lie,
in sparkling pieces on the ground,
and with trembling hands,
I cradle them with woeful sighs.
the delicate pieces of my love,
the shining joy of my adolescence,
reflections of my sorrows,
and melancholy everlasting,
as I hold my shattered innocence.
I've lost some pieces over time,
some I've tossed away,
others cut my hand without mercy,
and with my tears mixing in the wounds,
I put those back where they lay.
The shards on which I hold dear,
I put upon the injured wall,
pin them up fragment by shred,
to once again find myself whole,
praying my heart will not fall.
Like petite uncut gems,
my heart seems torn and hollow,
but the pieces that remain,
left on the floor where I fear to walk,
a path most fear to follow.
You walk in them without doubt,
you glimmer with a smile,
you eyes shine with gentle kinship,
and sitting in your angelic hands,
sets your cheer in denial.
The bits and parts of your own heart,
lay crippled and torn in your embrace,
your lonely tears betray the image,
your own mosaic was disfigured,
deep sorrow shadowed by a sunny face.
gingerly I collect each piece,
of your peaceful; merry past,
and try to fill what's incomplete,
fill in gaps and missing parts,
in hopes of something which will last.
Pieced together by pins, tape, or string,
against a wall that may shatter.
if we take our fondest moments together,
and make one heart between us,
what we left on the ground won't matter.
