We sat cross-legged, perched on the edge
Of a bed with toss-turned sheets.
My indescriminate glance dripped over you.
Slipped into the cracks of puzzle pieces
That were snapped together to make you.
The cracks gaped and widened
Color faded into lengthened shadows.
The puzzle pieces cascaded, broke away
Landed with dull thuds on the floor
And you scrambled to repair yourself.
I unclasped parts of me and placed them
Into the palm of your dissolving hands,
Making me wash away to help you.
You took those pieces and set them down
Into your lap and weren't frantic at all
As you placed your hands on top of them.
Pressed down on them and smoothed them.
Flaking away all of the paintings that made me.
Making the puzzle pieces unidentifiable
And replenished the perfection of your appearance.
Forlorn; I sat as you rose up
Not even showing those cracks
And walked right out the room.
I'm left as half a puzzle
With no one to give their pieces
To help recomplete me.
Author notes
I'm writing this poem from a memory of a party I had at my apartment a couple months back. An upset girl was ruining the party and went to go talk to her privately and help cheer her up. In order to do so I had to reveal hurtful things about myself to make her feel better. After she left, happy and cheerful, I was broken and dejected. So I called a girl and hoped that she could help me feel better but she totally didn't understand what I was trying to say. It let me to wonder why I hurt myself to help others and I had no one to help me the way I always did for them.
A contest entry
- picking your brain to pick mine by Odds and Ends.
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Comments
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The moral of the story, don't ever make anyone feel better. Kidding of course.
Quite a well written poem with an experience I'm sure everyone has gone through. It's nice to see something a bit more down to earth and less "Alas I die!" like most poems on here seem to be.
The only thing that even bugs me is the weird use of a a three line stanza where it didn't seem to need one, but that's a petty complaint at best, and a stupid one at worst. It's hard to critique something when it's written so well.
Very nice write.
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