Pieces

I'm broken again

Once,
I was good enough.
Youthful and carefree,
Life brimming with
Warm nights and campfires,
Smiles that meant things and
People that meant so much.
When bad things surged into my veins
And a sinister weight settled onto my bones,
I broke myself up, and shared the pieces with them.
Just like that, I could float again.

But the campfires grew too hot
And I was ripped from the blithe
Wind that somehow carried me through.
I clutched onto them, my support, my backbone,
My pieces.
But I must have screamed too loudly
For them to hear my cries
And I was flung, thrown out,
Simply not good enough.

The late nights I had spent open eyed
About rough patches in an ocean that
Was not my own seemed to have never existed.
The hours of uncontrollable smiles vanished.
None of it mattered.
Every time I heard pain speckled through a voice
And cared so intensely, it wasn't good enough.
Every pathetic attempt I made to be present, to
Be some sort of makeshift boulder for you,
Dissipated.
The trust had shattered and as you walk away
With other souls to explore,
I am left empty.

What, then, about the pieces?
Did you keep them? I like to think you did.
That you guard them, keep them safe.
Maybe you'll take them out from time to time
And realize I had even left.
If not, they must be strewn somewhere.
Left to rust, muddled and betrayed.
Someone else's pieces were surely nicer then mine.
Who would want dark, sinister pieces
That burned to the touch? That hurt?

Rid yourself of them, if you must, but
If there is one thing, If before I go
I am allowed one last request:
Never forget
that I carry some of yours too.