Broken Piece.

My soul will whisper

in the darkest night

how your skin felt

beneath my touch.

How your heart felt

in my hands.

How I broke you

and shaped you

into the mold

of an ache

that lingers in my mind.

A cadence set on repeat

that says

I shatter every piece,

every incarnation

of loves that spoke

sermons in my name.

The war that rages,

a desperate sort of plea,

that asks,

questions, why I can't

breathe as they do,

quick and fast,

in awe of what they see.

Inside the parts of me

that screams for hope,

I beg to let it be.

Let it be the one

who caresses and shapes

my form to mold with theirs.

My edges a puzzle

that fits along their side.

And I bargain with myself,

I won't go on this way,

leaving tears in my wake.

Because one day

my soul that whispers

in the darkest night,

will be reminded of

you.

The body you caressed

will feel the heart you embraced.

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