We built our fragile house
high in the air floating precarious,
no anchor against winds of disillusion
tsunamis of projection and hurt
leaving us no other task
but to sweep
the uprooted flowers from our ruined garden.  

Broken hearts never completely heal  
but only ***** in desperation  
lost in frustrated desire losing momentum
trying not to shut the door.

So I lose you; you lose me.
And though this is not
what we intended
with the naive architecture  
of our tender early hope,
we pick up a piece of wood here
a shattered lamp there
and try
to light our fragile house again.