My emotional frame is hard and
my broken parts are irrevocably
fused, in some ways, to yours.

You’re absentmindedly trying
to fill in the places where you
previously ripped me to shreds,
until I resemble a fun house
reflection of my former self.
Is it some kind of penance?

The easy part is separating
what was already broken
from what directly connects
to my anguish over losing you.

The hard part is figuring out
how to bridge the gap between
what I was and what I meant to be.


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