The heart is like a puzzle, it is broken from the start Pieced together incorrectly, then it’s torn apart Scattered, mismatched pieces only make a hollow shell It’s the middle that’s the riddle. This is why we suffer well Broken, jagged edges lock in place from time to time But, the picture’s so much bigger, with some pieces hard to find Scattered out upon the surface, wandering and estranged Longing just to be complete, they beg to be arranged To pump more than a numb, and sometimes bitter, tragic wine That leaves our souls hung over from the picture undefined Trying oh so vainly to place pieces left ajar As the picture in our heads still differs so from who we are Sometimes the missing pieces are what paint the picture true Each one cut so differently, to different depths and hues Paragraphs and chapters in the story of our lives Each one placed can bring a smile or carve us like dull knives Until they are residing in the place they need to be Coinciding with the pieces of what was and what’s to be For broken hearts cannot be whole until they’re incomplete For seldom do we realize just what it is we seek Merely waiting for the one who finally chances to pass by Who sees the very pieces they've been missing in their lives For it’s the very pieces that we share with one another Which make whole our broken hearts, and the broken hearts of others