Broken

I can help it; I can focus on other things

But it seems I’m self possessed on creating love.

It’s a vague light, opaque at best and maybe because

I need things to be perfect

I need to be moving towards the best always

And so I need to find the best in you

Construct monuments out of all of your fallen pieces

Adorn you with every shred of you I’ve reached

And see what I can make of it.

But then what are you but the cloths, the outsides and the pieces

‘till I can’t see your shortcomings

And find that for lack of your pieces

I’ve woven the essence of myself

To shroud you.

Shredded my self-conscience

until I stand there naked

No, barren, without a wisp of myself and you,

Given every picture of me.

Going back to you would make leaving even harder;

Would take the strength remaining,

 Sealing my fate to endless pain

Or placing my heart in your hands impossibly.

Neglectful, unaware, distracted.

How could you know how to handle a glass thing?

How could you carry things made

Of an essence out of this world?

But you will when it matters

And I hope that moment finds you both

In His hands.