Time with all its glorious hindsight,
Pricks at me.
Stinging my face with its tears.
How many times can a heart
Be broken apart like a jigsaw?
Be put back together again
On the playroom floor
Of another in a long line of playmates?
Well, from now on I’m hiding a few pieces.
And one in particular, no one will ever find.
And that final piece to the puzzle
Of my heart will forever remain mine.
Kept in its box.
And though it will make a beautiful picture,
It will never be complete.
The prelude to my next romance is this,
I’m keeping a part of my heart,
Only I will ever own.
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