Isn't it sad
How we
Can spend
A lot of
Time together
Yet know
Next to nothing
About
Each another.
This though,
Is not the time
To reminisce.
Earlier this
Morning you
Told me that
You were leaving.
It came in not
As bomb that
Levels cities,
No, it was more
Like a baseball
That broke through
The stained-glass windows
Of my heart.
This does
Not kill me,
But day in
And day out,
I am burdened
By the gaping
Hole in me.
I pick the
Shards of glass,
Stained with
Memories and
Mysteries.
I only ask
To know you more.
I try to put
The shards together
Enduring all
The cuts to my
Fingers.
Cuts of different
Sizes, some are
Deep and some
Are shallow
But all draw blood
The same.
I Persevere
through the pain
To rebuild
That perfect
Picture.
To see the
Mystery
Unravel before
Me.
To put together
The pieces of
Your identity.
Isn't it sad
How we
Can spend
A lot of
Time together
Yet know
Next to nothing
About
Each another.
I only ask
To know you more.
Someday perhaps,
I would see
your hands,
Whose scars
Would gladly
Open again,
And help me
Fix this broken
Memory.