Sitting at this table,
Trying to ignore those that walk by.
Fixing the broken pieces of my heart.
Pieces still falling, breaking before my eyes,
Gone before I find them.
You walked up with sad eyes
And tapped me on the shoulder.
Hunched over my pieces,
I looked at you in anger.
When from behind your back,
you show me your heart is broken too.
Now we two sit at this table
Trying to fix the heart that everyone else made fall apart.
But one piece of mine didn't fit in the space I had made.
So you asked to look at it.
I handed you *hope*
Such a little piece, nothing of value,
I thought I had lost so long ago.
I handed it to you with a nervous smile.
But it fit in your heart
On the first try.
And I began to realize
That not all these pieces were meant for me,
I had to give them away to get a piece in return.
You hand me *caring*
A perfect fit.
Now we both sit at the table,
Exchanging broken pieces,
*secrets* so hard to give
even in the little slivers we slipped between us,
*desire* and *lust* burned us both when exchanged,
*trust* given in such little shards,
Broken so often that to repair again seems too much.
Some pieces disintegrate before our eyes
*loneliness* and *emptiness* gone before we realized.
So we sit together with heads bent close,
Working the puzzle everyone else made of us.
If you walk by and need a place to put back together your pieces, pull up a chair.
I might have a piece that will fit you here...
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