I got on my hands and knees to

Pick up the pieces. 

The blanket I’d accidentally shredded by trying to wash it clean,

Had left a trail of remnants all along the floor. 

A patch of emptiness it displayed as I held it in the light. 

On hands and knees I pinched the pieces of foam and

Piled them atop one another. 

You aren’t coming. 

Aloud I say, “Just deal with it, Lord.”

But I know that inwardly,

My heart is just as torn 

As the pieces lying on the floor,

In a pile. 

Part of me wishes you would walk in and see me

On my hands and knees.

Trying to pick these pieces off the floor. 

Would you see the symbolism?

Would you understand that for a while now, every day,

This is what I do?

Attempt to pick the pieces of my 

Torn up heart off the floor. 

Because of you. 

And it’s my fault too;

I bent over backwards trying to keep this up but

Now I think I’ve had enough. 

It’s okay if you don’t come. 

It’ll give me the closure I guess I need. 

And then maybe…just maybe…

I can be free. 

~ written October 31, 2016 at 11:28am


💙 Mishy 🦋

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