Broken pieces

I am more than just my pieces

Every little broken piece,

Every jagged edge

A slice of a finger

At the touch of my skin

I am more than just my pieces

I can’t yearn for you to glue me together

I can not look at you as though your job is to

Make me feel whole

Because who am I to expect so much of you

To hold me as I dry

To support me when I feel weak

How can I ask you to admire me


With the cracks so visible

Glue dried dripping from the sides

How can you look at me and say I am beautiful

As you pick up my pieces

I bleed you dry

Hurt you

Drain you

How can I ask you to put me together

When I see you suffer

Each move you make

I will always be broken

I will never be whole

I will only always and forever

Be pieces disguising themselves as something

Put together

How can I ask you to fill me

As I begin to implode

As I sink deeper and deeper

Into the oceans below

And as I sink down and I tell you not to save me

You see my eyes screaming

Give me air

Just please

Baby please

Help me breathe

I may be nothing but a stranger

To the girl I met today,

I want you to know,

that I feel your torment.


In the way that you evade my eyes

in the way that your eyes gloss over


with the pink tinge of a girl that has cried

from the full of the moon

till it blessed us with its smile.


I know you are hurt.

I want you to know that you are not alone.


the crackle in your voice

caused by sobbing,

a throat, exhausted by the howling


I know that you are void of all happiness.

I have been there too.


your anger is too full right now,

your sadness is more

cavernous than the oceans combined,


but I am here


my small talk;

my attempts to distract you

from the agony you are feeling,


my venture to convince you that

I am right there beside you


I am trying to let you know

I have felt it,


I have lived it more than once,

and I am alive and well today.


everything will be okay.

I know


I know that you will not believe me

just like I didn’t believe myself.


I know that there are no words,

no utterances, that will make you believe otherwise.


at least not until the anger subsides


But to the girl that I met today,

I just want to tell you how beautiful you really are


that his actions do not define you.


his deceit is not a repercussion of your worth.


the moment you heard the truth

that pit in your stomach, hollow hearted, emptiness

you feel


will not be what you will feel forever

I know


I want to embrace you

but, I am but a stranger


there is a boundary and a wall

and I know you will cringe to hear my love story


to the girl I met today..


you will be okay.



a wonderfully mended heart

Dimples, deep as the oceans

I have heard her say day after day how much she loved him

I watched her carefully strut her way down the stairs

Gentle hands gliding down polished banisters

I gazed as I saw her purposely choosing every little morsel of lunch

That would go with him that day to work

Every ingredient chosen with love

Every flavor representative of the massive amounts of

Care she had for her little boy

A boy that wasn’t so little anymore

And her

Always entering a room with a gleaming smile

Ear to ear

Dimples like the oceans

Filled with darkness

Holding secrets

But we would never know

That little boy


Swinging on the swing set


Running along the beach


Trips to Hawaii


cheek to cheek

Sparkles in each others eyes

She never would of known

That she would wake up the next morning

To a beautiful sunrise

That was devoid of her baby

A world in which he was no longer there

That he would have been so lost

And somehow, she never knew

She didn’t see the pain he held

She didn’t see the quiver in his lips

As he forced his smile

The twitch in his eye lid as he held in the tears

How could she ever have predicted that he was so hurt

That he would feel that the only answer was that shotgun

That he would feel an emptiness too vast

That to not exist sounded less lonely

I see her now

She holds herself together

Smiles at the sunset


In Rome


Along the beach


Of the little boy

Memories of the happy times

Or at least

Of the times

She thought he was happy