I wait patiently,
carefully working on this puzzel.
You give me your life in pieces.
First chipped old edge pieces
all grey as the sky.
Then one purple with an orange stripe
it doesn't seem to fit anywhere.
Then none for a long time,
but sometimes I steal them

and my collection of pieces of you
becomes beautiful
but maybe because I put some to the side
in the picture that I'm trying to piece together
those ones would not fit

It's becoming harder and harder
to make that picture
because you force into my hands
pieces I wish were not yours
you make more and more of them
The puzzle grows into an ugly parody
of the picture I was making.

and the little pieces I cherish
are just moments
lost in years
spent far away from me