i like to compare my love to a battered, discarded puzzle piece,
from an old and small puzzle,
like the cheap ones you find inside chocolate eggs during easter.
i also imagine the world as a puzzle.
but in contrast to the puzzle piece that is my love,
this puzzle is made out of the finest porcelain,
illustrated by the most talented artists,
and made up of more than a thousand pieces.
this puzzle is complete.
it doesn't have space for my puzzle piece,
which is no more than an oddity and a misfit.
my puzzle piece doesn't fit.
and it never will fit.