I move in the slow heat of your tentative grip
as you lead me through the maze of cracks in you,
carved open by careless occupants of the temple
that you no longer hold sacred.
I see shame in the depths of your worried glance
as you turn away from my roving gaze,
tracing the scars left behind by seasoned claws
sunk deep into world-weary limbs.
I find pain in the frame of a forgotten puzzle
whose pieces have been flung into corners
of a labyrinth, beaten by faded footsteps of children
that grew tired of your mismatched pieces.
I see you. Clinging to your patchwork heart
as you peer into Pandora’s near-empty box.
And you see you. Unworthy of my love
and punished by the pressure in your head to be held,
even by those who would break you.