Puzzle pieces laid out flat,
Why don't they fit like the
Dried up canals on our palms
Used to fit?

Maybe the persistent mist has
Given up -
Decided to land
On the Sunflowers
Instead.

The only Puzzle I touched,
Hard plastic between
Long fingers.
Cold, Complicated, Confused.

Shock my brainwaves into
Reality -
With the warmth of
Unfamiliarity.

Trace the blades of my shoulders
With your electric paintbrushes,
Creating a masterpiece in me
That is craving
To come to life.

Show me where the pieces
Spoon and weave together
In the perfect harmony
Of our voices.

Finally.
Complete.