in pieces
my heart lay scattered
across the floor in pieces
we became friends
from pieces
we evolved into something more

from pieces
she picked up my heart
in pieces
one by one

with glue she gave me
a fresh start in pieces
she put back my heart
she put back my reason

to live
to love
to feel

in pieces i stay until
i learn how to put my heart
back together

to find hope from above
from pieces
she put back my heart
from pieces
she gave me a fresh start

but just like kale goes stale
when ***** hands grip and pull
my heart stays fresh for only so long

it was only a matter of time before
the glue gave way and the pieces broke once more

I depend on it
It keeps my head together
Music is my glue.

When I was a lot younger I would sit and ponder of the idea of glue. It was always a struggle when you accidentally glued something down in the wrong spot. Either you would end with success or failure trying to salvage the sheet. Sometimes you'd ask the teacher for a new sheet when you knew there was no point in trying to redeem the last one. You would either give up or try again. Then when you would ask for a new sheet you were happy because you got a clean slate and tried so hard to make this one; in your eyes perfect. Then you would look back at the old one you tried to salvage and either looked at the beauty in it or you realized that you got exactly what you wanted.

Place silhouette pieces or outlines of my heart in thirty or more envelopes.
Paste each one with a new soft paintbrush which clean cream bristles. Push them into torn up fragments of clean new watercolour paper. The sharp edges feel through onto the wooden table leaving mistaken, accidental grooves. Glimmers of sawdust are ****** up into the pockets of your lungs, where they contaminated and will permanently sit.
It was a small heart, the colour of grey sky reflected on seas and carried in bloated raindrops. The texture of diamond. Carved up as easily as wax by a blunt butter knife.
The envelopes are neatly labelled with white tailors chalk powders.

Yes, that's surely quite a few,
but you don't give a ****, do you?
To be quite frank, neither do I,
but sometimes I wish that I knew why.
Don't get me wrong,
I'm not depressed.
I rocketed out from that cannon
long, long ago.
Okay, two weeks ago.
Shut up.
Anyway, dear readers invisible,
I'm happy now, and it's incredible.
It was a door, it was a light,
that led me from the longest night.
And now my only taunting fright
is if my lungs will be alright.
For I was screaming so long and hard,
that now my voice is broken shards.
In retrospect, it was meant to be,
but now this mess, I have to clean.
I'd like to put it back together,
Ideally so it'd look brand new,
but I can't find any
super glue,
you don't happen to have some,
do you?
Hmmm.

Christ, fine. I'll do it myself.

When you ask for a second,
You take forever,
Does that mean when you say, "forever," you mean only a second?
Because to me you're worth a dollar,
And I'll ask for you like a beggar,
To me you're not priceless, instead, you're what I need,

And when you ask for glue to help fix that broken heart,
You forget that glue is meant for sticking things together, not fixing,
And glass hearts can be recycled, silly,

Although we are reminded that the world is ugly everyday,
You forget that the beauty is inside--,
Look again,

So please, stop reciting the dictionary of self flattery and profanity,
Eventually you'll repeat what you learned to those around you,

Because while we all have been chasing our dreams,
When we find them again
Is when we are least expecting,
When we are asleep

Numb is the girl who dreams
The one who fails to see everything
Even though the world is not all that it seems
She finds the beauty in anything

Dumb is the boy who leaves
The one who is burying
A life he is told not to believe
Who will just continue worrying

Numb is the girl who loves
Who cries tears of gold-
Over just one silly dove-
Who thought she was too bold

Dumb is the boy who is beloved
Who had been told
"A proper man is devoid of-
Girls who aren't bought and sold

Dumb is the boy who never knew
She was his only glue