Where do you put the broken pieces
that won’t fit back together again?
My pockets are full from picking them up
and carrying them along.
They’ve finally started to weigh me down
those pieces, cracked and worn.
They’ve slowed my forward motion
and are dragging me back down.
I’m trying to learn how to let them go
and leave them where they lay.
But it’s hard to watch the pieces of yourself
lying alone on the floor.
No one is there to protect them
or to try and help them heal.
Just discarded, forgotten and left behind
exactly the way I feel.
It’s hard to let the parts of me go
that dreamed and believed in love.
They’re so broken now and if I leave them behind
I fear I’ll never know them again.
So I hold on with one hand to the battered and worn
and with one hand I try to reach out.
To the future, to tomorrow, to beginning again
to becoming someone else.