Pieces

Do you know?

Do you know he carries torn pieces of me with him?

Do you know he tore those pieces from me to carry with him always?

Do you know that he gives those torn pieces of me to you when he thinks of me while he’s with you?

Every hello, a piece. Every laugh, a pieces. Every song, a piece. Every book, a piece, Every movie, a piece. Every star, a piece. Every tear, a piece. Every smile, a piece. Every dinner, a piece. Every walk, a piece. Every nap, a piece. Every beer, a piece. Every haircut, a piece. Every ball thrown for the dog, a piece. Every kiss, a piece, Every goodbye, a piece. All of these pieces he tore from me to keep with him in hopes of always have a connection, a way back, absolution, mercy, grace.

He’ll never be able to tell you how much he loved me. He’ll never tell you about the songs he sang to me. He’ll never tell you about the dinners he made me. He’ll never tell you about the jewelry he bought me. He’ll never tell you about the secrets he told me. He’ll never tell you that the look in his eyes is because my favorite restaurant is also your favorite restaurant. He’ll never tell you about the children he raised with me. He’ll never tell you he misses me. He’ll never tell you he stole those pieces from me.

He breaks a little every time one of those tiny pieces slip out of his pocket and flickers in the soft breeze. He is fractured because he realizes now that he doesn’t have enough to make you into his vision of me anymore. He’s seared through too many of those pieces.

He could have taken all of me had I allowed it and you would still be just a poor man’s version of me because he never deserved me but oh, he deserves you, every single piece.

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