When a heart breaks, it looks for its pieces
Mine did, because you left it scattered
On your fingers
Smashed on your lips, glistening
Or old, shimmery lip gloss.
You left me, blind on the floor
A desperate, wild thing.
I don’t know you anymore.
No matter where you go,
or what you do, you’ll have pieces of me,
that were never given freely.
You left the offered ones on my face–
Splattered, and spit on.
The ones you threw on the floor,
You smashed with tender, deliberate care
Because leather shoes matter to you,
it can’t be sullied with random pieces
of your good friend’s heart.
– mncocjin, 2014