I have been a match
to many better halves,
but they were puzzle pieces
forced to fit together.

Pieces of sky to pieces of sea,
pieces of them to pieces of me.

They seemed perfect
until you looked just a bit too close.
Those smiles revealed chipped paint,
those hands clasped just a little too tight.

They didn't like what I let them see,
so they hacked away at those pieces of me.

There is no luminescence in any soul
to highlight my shadows.
Instead there is one
whose demons dance with mine.

Exactly what a second half should be,
the pieces of him fit with all the pieces of me.

Its the little things that matter most.
Stories of falling skies,
tales of a much-loved black cat,
dreams within a waking nightmare.

And so with a timid whisper I do decree,
that he holds every piece of me.