in the beginning, I believed it was no-one's faultit was because I was in pieces
held together with nothing more than mere determination
lacking in color or defintion
I looked back at the time
and realized I was as incomplete
and as fragmented as his narcissistic delusions about love
yet time marched on and the pieces became clearer
not crumbling in my hand but rather
thick and jagged like mosaicked glass
in somber shades of grey, black and blue
yet one sliver was untouched, whole
with shiny swirls of silver and white
never noticed it before because it was not there
until the very last moment
only in his final goodbye did he give me
what I so desperately needed all along
in the end, he gave me a piece of peace
almost whole again
I am beauty and art
a survivor of another wasted heart
now colors run together
so wild and free
new tones of red
glowing so brightly
burning for you
to see the masterpiece in me
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