Missing Puzzle Piece
I have poems that tell me you love me,
Or at least you used to.
But then I realized that I wrote those.
And I guess, this heartbreak sensation
was why I wrote them:
of a love that I can’t even tell existed anymore...
But it must have
that line I wrote when I said
“I’d known you too long and too well for this to be the end,”
It sure fit in the poem.
Like that puzzle piece that you search for
until you realize it’s
under the carpet,
under the table,
under the puzzle,
you’d been trying to solve for so long.
Only to realize, that was the first piece you’d placed.
And I’m stuck around that one piece
because it worked,
for the first time love fit somewhere
in a poem and it was real.
Every time I try to fit another piece to the puzzle,
I get stuck on you,
the one piece solved.
The one piece done with because
you fit so well in that poem. That love poem.
But, baby, maybe that’s ‘cause I wrote you in it.
Originally appeared in the 2013-2014 edition of Outside In