I have been growing -

Older, trying to find
The right pieces, and
Discarding the broken puzzles
And bruised egos;
Long-lost lovers
Moaning, only just to
Break free
From the cold grip
Of silence, tightening
Around my throat,
Your throat,
Her throat.

Time flies, they said
But it only seems to freeze
In the bones
Of numbed minds;
The escapists,
And the artists,
And the lovers,
Simulating solace, to escape
What our minds
Comprehend, but
Our hearts so deeply fear.

Or was it your own silhouette
That scared you to death?
Was it mine?
The moon is probably
Just cheeky, and the nights
May just be an illusion,
But just around the corner
Of secrets you buried
Deep beneath
The flesh and bones, and
A few blocks down
Memory Lane,
In an old dumpster
Of trivialized thoughts
You may just find
Another piece of yourself

- Or the puzzle.