The illusion is that together, we are whole.
Not just broken, misshapen pieces.
We search tirelessly for the ones that fit
Like some kind of scavenger hunt,
A deranged puzzle.

But do we fit together
Or do we get caught in the reflection.
Mesmerized by the images we see.
Deluded by some perceived similarity.
Enchanted by the visions and left
Lingering in a moment of hope,
That disappears when you look away.
Wanting to believe that my jagged edges,
Align with your soft curves.
Will we only break each other further,
Fragmenting ourselves into oblivion
While caught in the dream that shared moment.
Cutting ourselves to ribbons
In the desperate attempt to connect
With borders that do not match.

Maybe it was the glint of light I saw in you.
The intoxicating idea of,
Becoming whole.
But I will only break you,
Mar your surface,
Mark you as flawed.
Breaking the already broken.
The illusion is that together, we are whole.

I wish we fit together.

Penned by my hand on the 24th of Daedalan, in the year 863 AF.