On my roads though life I stop to pick up the pieces of a broken heart. On
the corner when I was done the Heart became a frame. And when the one
completing the picture within and by this I now know, that no matter how
much I search for broken pieces, there is one complete piece for everyone.
You are the picture in my heart’s frame.
Our minds grow distant as our hearts fall from each other’s hands. Our,
hope, lies, our love slowly dies but remember you will always be in my
frame. Weather I’m in yours or not my love is constant, my arms always open,
my hope never dying. You complete my frame of a heart.
You have taken my picture out of your frame… you have taken that picture
and burned it, throwing the ashes into the cold air. I’m sorry if I did
something to you that provoked this. Your picture in hand, my frame broken
once again. Slowly I put it back together; slowly I complete my frame and
peer deep within the center. There you are, staring back at me, your eyes
your lips your smile, and again my frame crumbles onto the ground.
I’ve nearly given up… Lost my hope for my frame to be whole again. I pick
up the pieces, put them together but soon it shatters again. The sharp
shards scattered across the world. Never your picture burned, my heart aches
for your kiss, my hope never gone, and the scars on my frame will mend, as
my body will. Piece by piece, shard by shard, I put my frame together in
hope of your return to the center of my heart.
The flame high, my spirit low, my frame empty and alone. You finally came
back, and then my frame was full. But, you told me to burn it… destroy the
picture I have held on forever. You have shattered my frame for the last
time. I leave it broken; I walk over the shattered pieces. Alone I wonder,
heartless I travel, until someone finds my shards and fills my frame.
Shards turns to dust, my frame is lost. Each night I lie and I cry. For the
one who once completed my frame. I watch as the wind blows my dust of a
heart away. Tears and blood like a never ending flood drip off my body. I
feel now like my frame was never filled or never existed.
Sit and stare blankly at the white solid wall. A fallen angel, in all her
beauty reaches to me. Turns my scared palm up and places a shard. Confused,
I stare at it, what was it? A shard of my frame she said as she closed my
hand over it covering it with her own. Opening the once black shard of my
old frame shimmered in the once brilliance it had before. Then she picked up
another shard and placed it in my hand.
On our road though life, together, we pick up the pieces of my broken
heart. We find each piece scattered across the world. And when we finished
she placed the frame into my hands. I peered into the center; my beautiful
fallen angel completed my frame. With a kiss and a hug, I now know that
there is someone to complete each frame, we wandered together not alone and
not broken.

 
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