Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Katie Mar 19
I told you last night
That all the men I've ever fallen in love with
Were like puzzle boxes -
An intellectual's game,
A challenge,
Something for me to solve
That wasn't my own problems.

Now I realize my simile was incomplete.

All the people I've ever loved are puzzles,
And both experience and society have taught me
That in order to see the full picture
You must put them back together.

I have also learned the hard way
(Or rather, you have taught me)
That some people don't want to be solved.

It is only by turning my observations inward
That I have realized I am also a puzzle,
My pieces scattered across the carpet
Of my childhood bedroom
By my parents, who saw what I was becoming,
And swept me onto the floor
Because they didn't like the finished picture.

How am I supposed to solve someone else
When I cannot even find all the pieces of myself?

Experience and society have taught me
That people make themselves puzzle pieces
To fit into other peoples' lives.

But I am such an odd shape
That I am either too big or too small,
Or the pattern is all wrong,
And I must find a different puzzle
In the hopes that I belong there instead.

And worst of all I fear
That when I have found all of my pieces,
Collected off the carpet and from underneath the bed,
I will not like the finished picture,
And dash myself to bits all over again.

No wonder all of my friends are psychologists -
They see me for the puzzle that I am,
And try to help me solve myself.

How do I tell you
That I would rather solve other people
Because I have given up on solving myself?

How do I tell you
That I have lost so many pieces
That I do not even know if I can be solved?

I have realized
That I only fall in love with fictional men
Because their puzzles are already solved -
And it is only by taking them apart,
Their pieces scattered on the floor with my own,
Neither of us whole,
That I can imagine them loving me.

I have also realized
That the reason I cannot accept unconditional love
Is because you do not care that I am broken,
And maybe it's okay that I am not complete,
Because maybe nobody really is.

No wonder all of my friends are psychologists -
They can see that I am broken,
And they do not care because they are too.

How do I tell you
That I don't want to be solved either?

How do I tell you
That I am afraid of what I might see
When I am whole again?
Mark Wanless Jan 9
i don't know what is
humanity but puzzle
in a hollow mind
Niamh Aug 2022
To be honest
it's hard to see the bigger picture
when I'm surrounded
by incomplete works.

But maybe the point
is not to get to the end
or to celebrate our finishing's.

But instead it is to feel
the journey
and not mourn the missing puzzle piece,
but rather
to enjoy the pleasure in finding it.
Filomena Aug 2022
I am cold and sterile,
And you are hot and fierce
But dressed in my apperal
Your radiance appears
Psych ward poetry.
Set 3, poem 36.
My Dear Poet Jun 2022
We fit perfectly outside the puzzle
snipes Dec 2021
Give it your all
Give it your all
Give it your all
Give it your all
Give it your all

I fell
I rose
I fell
I rose

I’m not going to stop
I don’t mean to lose focus
But my eyes sought off

Pieces patchwork the puzzle
Jean jacket stapled den Im-pressed  
Magicians coat so called miracles code

Find meaning in your sentences
My eyes are locked on
I’ll find me in my own sentences
I’m locked here, for life's on
Might as well stare my own lights stance

Mortal searching for no mortality
Life looking for life with a smile totality

Does the sky fall
Does the rain dry
Does the heat cool
Does the wind talk
Does the sound walk
Does our life end
Do our dead live

I gave it my all
I was emptied out
I sailed
I sunk
I died
I drank
I fell off
I recovered
Just too go back to it all
I gave it my all
This world is beyond
A broken heart
An empty soul
A wasted body
So I’ll send it off
regina Nov 2021
Tonight I came to a realization.
That each one of us is broken.
And to portray:
Possibly our life is like an incomplete puzzle.

If we are fortunate, we might find our missing pieces and make us whole.

Till we discover our missing pieces,
We will try to fill the void.
Searching for something that will make us feel less lonely.

Aren't we all lonely?
heh my boyfriend is kinda sad tonight. it inspires me to write
GaryFairy Oct 2021
It's apples and oranges. They are both fruit, and variety is the salt of the earth. We love dividing people like fruit though. We are rotten. At least fruit ferments. We decay

You are the apple of my eye. I will watch you rot, then i will throw the core away. What do I need seeds for? A bad apple in my eye now. *******

Orange you gonna hit like? I accept good apples too.
Tell me more about what a poet should not be...that's all i want to be
Wilfred Oct 2021
said the jester with skin coated in yellow

he forgot to bow
to ghastly twist his body
for head to kiss to toe

the king began to snarl
the jester began to tremble
the guards gazed at the  gallow tree
I have no name for this poem, just the sudden rush to write maybe l would rewrite it in some future
snipes Sep 2021
~ Some people are scared to show their heart
I was to shy too speak my mind  ~
So I’ll give you some time
The puzzle of my mind
The pieces of peace
The picture you seek
As framed in unfinished architecture
Off bad lighting
A glass house
A stone thrown
A glass lens
With fogged up f/2 aperture
Off good positioning
The devolvement
Of my soul building
A dark room
With a beautiful film
Being golden
Ah but **** all that
That Snapchat
While I snapshot
Your main thought
You’ve lost
Me distraught
This drought
Is at fault
I can see
Why your water runs with salt
You’re *** got caught
Now your *** is my last thought
I’m outside
I’m not giving a ****
I’m what you sought
Sore eyes
Lore ties
Nots hide
But I am
Next page