One* day, I hope you know, sweet heart.
That words spoken from your lips to mine were tied by that smile
&
ribboned by wispy threads of memories,

the way you stared at me in off-handed moments;
your eyes
playing peek-a-boo with mine
across a place filled with beating hearts.

Mine was the fastest, that I do know.

That you pulled pieces of my heart apart
slow & soft
like a promise,

then jigsawed it back together.

But surely, it splintered into indecipherable pieces that escapes my hopeful fingertips.

The irony is I don't wish that upon you either.
I hope you do know,
I
really
*do.