love hands

“Our lives are intertwined,” he says,

and I remember how far I have gone

and the pieces that I have left behind before,

the pieces of me that I have given

to others before him,

and I wonder if he knows

that he’s getting a chipped package,

worn and shattered by life,

some edges carved off

to fit the curve of another.

I’ve shaped myself like that before.

Yes, I have woven myself into your fabric,

I think, but I have tied no strings.

I am too hesitant now,

to give myself again like that.

And while our lives are intertwined

you are not the first boy

whose fingers have interlaced mine like that.

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One Response to Pieces

  1. spooncave says:

    I like this.

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