All Of The Pieces

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

6 Comments

  1. Wow – I love this.
    It has echoes of one I showcased on my blog a few days ago – Poem for Everyone, written by John T. Wood, but the positive note at the end of yours is a triumph.

    Reply

  2. Reblogged this on Making it write and commented:
    Only four days after posting John T Wood’s ‘Poem for Everyone’ I’ve stumbled on another rare poetic treat. Written by Carol J. Forrester, it contains echoes of Wood’s poem – purely by chance, since Carol wasn’t aware of its existence until today – but tells a different story.

    Reply

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