The fractured pieces of our lives
Are scattered before me on the floor.
I can see the pieces as they’re meant to be,
Forming a map of the passing years
That always leads back to you:
Birthday cake and bicycles
Grunge rock bands and Halloween costumes
The ocean breeze and movie nights
And smells with no names because they only belong to you.
But the pieces will not fit together anymore
The edges are ripped and burnt.
My hands are as big as yours now;
I trace the lines and wonder
If you can feel it, like a shiver in your soul.
If your body aches for the familiar weight of my own
To press against your chest.
These memories grow painful
Wounds that will never fully heal
I pick up the pieces
And place them back in the box marked
“Pandora.”
Once more, its time to
Disconnect.