I gave myself to you in pieces.
The first piece I gave when I was unaware,
you met my eye in a crowded room
and I handed you the first piece.

The second piece I gave
was when you held my hand as you walked me to my door,
not because you wanted to come inside,
but because you needed to know that I was safe.

The next piece I gave you
was when you showed up at my door with coffee and breakfast and a youthful grin.

And then piece by piece
I handed myself to you.
I handed you my broken parts and you kept them safe,
or at least that's what I thought.

The last piece I gave to you
I don't know when it happened.
We were laughing and I looked at you and realised I didn't ever want to be without you.
I realised that I couldn't be without you,
and that was when I knew.

I was in-love with you.

But you kept those pieces to yourself,
you didn't give me you,
or at least the parts of you that I craved to know,
and so when you left I felt empty.

You had taken all of me and I had to fill the gaping hole inside of my chest.

I filled it with thoughts of you.

But that didn't help.
It only reminded me of what we used to have,
it only reminded me of what we used to be.

You only remind me that I should have never given any of myself to you,
because giving yourself away is the most naive and imprudent act one can do.
When you give yourself away you lose yourself,
and when you're alone and only have yourself
you find yourself empty.

I hate empty.

You left me empty.
You filled my brain with only thoughts of you,
but now I know better than to lose myself in the fantasy of us.

So I now do everything that I should have done from the beginning.
Now I hold onto the pieces of myself and use them to put me back together.
And in doing that I found the most worthy and paramount object of my affection;

myself.