jigsaw, words

my heart is not broken

i was wrong when i thought that

it is a jigsaw puzzle waiting to be solved by some lucky lady

a lovely lady sweeps into the room, brightens the darkness like a flare in the night

i, being nocturnal, scurry away from the light, eyes squinting from the painful glare, unused to the intensity of being the center of attention

before i can make it to my secret lair they snatch me up by the tail, elevating me to meet their gaze

most of the time i am tossed back into the rubbish, like the trash i am

but sometimes they catch a glimpse of something

then they painstakingly pull the box from my chest and put the puzzle together

i enjoy this part

watching as she takes a strand of hair and place it in the corner of her lovely mouth, the way her nose crinkles as she concentrates on finding first the corners, then all the edge pieces

before long the picture becomes clear, a romantic vista, maybe a hot air balloon, for the moment it was what ever sweet thing they yearn to see

once the last piece snaps into place they sit back and admire their handiwork

a sense of satisfaction briefly flashes across that beautiful face

a period of time passes where they stop and glance at the art they created from a box of mixed up parts

but eventually they want the table back, the scenic view becomes mundane and they crave another wistful trip, a new adventure

so with little care they pull out the box and sweep the pieces back in

little care involved, the idea maybe one day they will return to it, but we both know they won’t, the excitement of discovery is already gone by then

the random jagged little section falls to the floor to be kicked under the sofa, or accidentally tossed in the bin

and i am left with the box rattling about in my chest, lighter from the missing chunks

hoping someone else will want to put it back together

doubting anyone ever will again

so my heart is not broken

it is just a puzzle no one wants to solve

one with missing pieces

some assembly required

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