You said the other day that you saw people as puzzles,
That each person was a whole is a picture comprised of pieces,
Each piece a picture all it's own.

You said that you liked the picture my puzzle showed,
Multifaceted and colorful,
Each bringing in new prospectives that you didn't see before.

But that little monster that resides in the corner of my mind wonders,
Will you always think the same?
What about the pieces that are waterlogged and warped,
The ones destroyed by rough handling,
Careless placement leaving them bent and even torn?

I know that you'll say that it doesn't matter,
And perhaps that may be true,
But I know there are some pieces that even I don't like,
They're ugly, repugnant, and even grotesque.

But I shall place my trust in you,
a fragile piece of my heart,
as you become a piece all you're own.

In time perhaps you'll become that final piece,
that makes my picture whole