As the parts of me,

fall apart,

and I crash back down.

As I brake,

and my smile erases,

I feel your touch,

trying to fix me.

                                     I don't understand.

You broke me,

why are you fixing me.

And these small pieces,

don't you see I broke.

But you put yours,

right next to mine.

                                        It's love?

If it is,

this strange feeling.

And our heartbeats,

they are the same.

And we smile,

even though we're broken.

Sloboda is finished poetry book so I started a new one.