It took 31 years to scatter them. High and low, under and over, and sometimes around. Some in the darkest places in the universe, and others down the toilet. Pieces lie in the sunshine, curling under the drying morning dew. Others lie broken, ground under heels into the cracks in the pavement. I feared that some were certainly lost forever.
It took 16 months to gather them all. To sit quietly, thoughtfully, and purposefully fit them together. Some snapped in place immediately, some needed coaxing to nestle into the next, work we poured over together in whispers.
When I needed another try, you patiently dropped another piece into the palm of my hand with a smile. Some reassurance. Some love. When I needed a break you pushed our work aside and just held me while I trembled. When I grew afraid you propped me up, and gently turned my face to the image. To see what you saw, and not the yesterdays.
But when I looked up from my work, you had gone. I didn't know it, but the hourglass had run out. All I had left was this outline of me, a big hole where my heart should be. Those pieces are missing.
You had them in your pocket...