The Jigsaw Poem

The Jigsaw Poem

I found your words in crooked lines,

pieces scattered in the dark.

Some edges fit, some truths declined,

each echo left a mark.

The corners hum a fractured tune,

the center hides your face.

I try to build what once was whole,

but memory shifts its place.

And when at last the picture nears,

the puzzle starts to weep.

For love, when solved, dissolves itself,

and falls apart to keep.

I trace the seams with trembling hands,

each join a fleeting dream.

The past will not click, it bends, it breaks,

it is never what it seemed.

Your laughter hides behind the cracks,

your shadow stains the hue.

No puzzle fits the shape of loss,

it only mimics you.

So let it lie, this scattered art,

unfinished, half divine.

For in the gaps the pieces breathe,

and what was yours is mine.