By Vanessa Gordon

Two broken pieces.

Individually they are unequal.

Two people roaming the earth looking for a sequel, hoping to be whole again longing to feel their soul again.

Tired of being thrown again.

In this storm that never ends.

Tired of a world of make pretend.

Tired of making conversation.

Tired of fake friends and having to make amends.

Tired of being broken.

Two broken pieces.

Two missing pieces lost in a pile of puzzles .

Two pieces broken and tattered at the bottom of the rubble.

Aching all over with invisible bruises.

How do they exist how do they do this?

Two broken pieces lost and not found.

Two broken pieces that have dried up and withered.

Two broken pieces once full of wonder and soul now growing bitter and old.

Two broken pieces thrown to and fro.

Two missing pieces with stories yet to be told.

Two broken pieces finally meet and at the bottom of their pit.

They slowly unravel each layer of their soul and openly share their stories untold.

Two missing pieces finally found at the bottom of the rubble.

One pushes the other one pulls.

One feels nothing one feels too much.

One is quiet one is not.

One day one is high the other is low.

One is fast the other is slow.

One crashes and collides the other rushes to their side.

One is careless and the other cares less.

One starts the sentence the other makes the connection.

One sees only grey the other sees all things colourful.

One is serious the other is playful.

One is silent and lost their voice the other is bold and makes noise.

One extreme to another but no words can articulate this bond like no other.

Apart they are broken and damaged together they are one and balanced.

Two broken pieces.