Two shattered parts of me long for you
One breaks down again and again
servos whirring yet unable to function
Another rages at the audacity
of your accusations, your insecurity
making ridicule of my devotion
Yet another furious at myself
for giving in to the lure of love
for forgetting the inherent risks
for foolishly clinging beyond the point
to which you could stand
The sixth part attempts to reconstruct
clearing debris from broken past-loves
trying, hesitantly, to repair the damage
you created in the surface of my soul

**The seventh part is dead.
It died when you left.
It was buried in the grave i dug
In which you forever sleep.