As I was growing up I saw hearts being broken all around, because of the hands they were in weren’t steady enough to hold them. Broken pieces to tiny to be placed together and scattered among the broken pieces so it would be hard to find the right pieces that fit. Hoping that someone would stumble on yours pieces, hoping that they would take the time to assemble the missing pieces. Many played with the pieces they could find, half way assembling a near perfect shape of what use to be your heart but stopped when they couldn’t find the last piece. Til someone with a steady hand came along, you held on to that last piece too afraid to give someone your all.

I saw the broken piece left behind from the last guy who tried to fix your heart. I know my words aren’t much, but I want to mend your heart and retrieve the missing piece hidden between your hands, cuffed and held right against your chest.

Those broken piece that lay around you, that tormenting, mocking you, and tell you that you would “never find the one” would be silenced when I approach you, wipe the tears off your face and tell you “everything is going to be ok”. I want to kiss ever single broken piece of your heart hoping that the love behind my kisses would act as the glue to holding your heart together again.

And when it is time for the last piece to be placed, I want to hold you as if you were the last breath I take and make sure that you know my feelings towards you are true and hope you know that the last piece is up to you give away.