I’ve never been a taker
preferring to give all of myself until I’m nothing more than broken shards of a whole,
tiny pieces of glass scattered across the kitchen floor
sitting there in plain sight, waiting for someone to want more.
Then you wormed your way in
slid right across the floor, sweeping up the pieces
making the wrong feel less like a sin.
You didn’t use a broom rather those brown eyes
covered in the longest lashes that singed together the broken
doing the healing in the best sort of disguise.
I couldn’t tell you when that floor stopped sparkling with broken pieces of glass
or when the cracks started to fade like scars on my skin
you took the last piece to make me whole,
you didn’t want to let me in.
While I’m still not a taker I know what I want,
that little piece of you stole,
I can’t get back to that part of me
I need it to make me whole.
I need it to keep with me when the days are long and the nights are longer.
When the stars look too much like they did all those nights I stood at the pond watching
the sun sink behind the trees and the fish swim round and round as I waited
for the person I knew wasn't going to come home
for the life I tried to hold but slipped away.
I need a reminder to keep me sane when the memories wash over me like a tidal wave,
pulling me under and coating me in darkness similar to the nights I’d lie awake in your bed
listening,
waiting,
hoping
the door would creek and you’d come walking in with flowers from the field
we drove through every day on the short cut to your parents’ house.
I need you to tell me I’m not greedy for wanting something small
a little gesture, a keepsake, the broken piece of my jar
a reminder to keep close, to carry every day
more than empty promises when you don’t know what to say.
I’m not asking for much,
I don’t want to be free,
I just want a piece of you
like you’ll always have a piece of me.
Apr 7
Apr 7, 2026 at 12:28 PM UTC
I’ve never been a taker
preferring to give all of myself until I’m nothing more than broken shards of a whole,
tiny pieces of glass scattered across the kitchen floor
sitting there in plain sight, waiting for someone to want more.
Then you wormed your way in
slid right across the floor, sweeping up the pieces
making the wrong feel less like a sin.
You didn’t use a broom rather those brown eyes
covered in the longest lashes that singed together the broken
doing the healing in the best sort of disguise.
I couldn’t tell you when that floor stopped sparkling with broken pieces of glass
or when the cracks started to fade like scars on my skin
you took the last piece to make me whole,
you didn’t want to let me in.
While I’m still not a taker I know what I want,
that little piece of you stole,
I can’t get back to that part of me
I need it to make me whole.
I need it to keep with me when the days are long and the nights are longer.
When the stars look too much like they did all those nights I stood at the pond watching
the sun sink behind the trees and the fish swim round and round as I waited
for the person I knew wasn't going to come home
for the life I tried to hold but slipped away.
I need a reminder to keep me sane when the memories wash over me like a tidal wave,
pulling me under and coating me in darkness similar to the nights I’d lie awake in your bed
listening,
waiting,
hoping
the door would creek and you’d come walking in with flowers from the field
we drove through every day on the short cut to your parents’ house.
I need you to tell me I’m not greedy for wanting something small
a little gesture, a keepsake, the broken piece of my jar
a reminder to keep close, to carry every day
more than empty promises when you don’t know what to say.
I’m not asking for much,
I don’t want to be free,
I just want a piece of you
like you’ll always have a piece of me.
