When I looked in your eyes,
you knew at once I was in pieces.
The compassion I saw in your eyes
caused a hesitating teardrop to fall
followed by numerous other ones.
I did not have to tell you anything
and you did not say a word.
You knew all I needed was
the gentle touch of your hand
on my shaking shoulder.
You collected my shattered pieces,
restored the fragile structure
that once was my heart.
I am like a shattered puzzle,
pieces scattered along the table,
pieces that still remain in the box
and a number of pieces fallen on the floor.
There are some pieces with many colors,
bright and shiny like the bouquet of a bride,
pieces with dark tones
in the late evening shadows of a graveyard,
pieces simple in shape
and pieces so intricate I can not conceive
how they have been manufactured.
I have only a vague memory
of the once lost cover picture.
I see some pieces combined
into small distinct groups
revealing feeble clues to found on.
Without you I would not be able
to memorize what I once was.
Without you I would not be able
to realize what I am:
an unfinished puzzle
with a part of the cover picture
hidden in your soul.
I watch as you arrange my pieces.