I’m far too good at handing over pieces of myself
and it’s a wonder that there’s any of me left to give.
Each time, I held my heart with both hands.
Shattered it with a white knuckle grip
and offered out the fragments like bon-bons,
melting and sticky in my palm.
I should have kept them closer,
away from those who saw only wrappers
and threw them aside without thought.
Others tucked them into corners
or placed them on shelves out of sight
out of mind.
No one realised I’d become a jigsaw.
Not until you.
Daily Prompt: Delivery