It's only when you stop to think about things that everything starts to make sense.
The pieces start to come together on their own, like they were just waiting all along.
The pieces were there, but you couldn't see the bigger picture.
How do they all fit?
Others tried to give their interpretation of the picture, but none of the pieces seemed to fit correctly.
Some pieces fit, but others didn't.
Some needed to be forced together, but it wasn't right.
All of the pieces were there, so why didn't they fit?
They do fit, you just don't have the right picture.
The picture isn't something someone has drawn for you.
It isn't something that is passed down from one generation to the next.
It isn't something that has been made for you.
It is something that is made by you.
And only you.
About the Creator
Alyssa Nicole
A toxicologist who secretly hopes to be a full-time author. One novel in progress with too many other ideas taking up space in my head until I get around to writing them. Some of those ideas end up here.
Instagram: @alyssa.n.mussowrites
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More stories from Alyssa Nicole and writers in Poets and other communities.
Take Me With You
I've been here, my love. Watching, waiting. I've wanted to come to you, but I can't seem to break free of these wrought iron bars. You must have looked upon my face at least a hundred times these last few months, yet your face never once lit up for me. Not the way I know mine does for you. It's like you didn't recognize me anymore.
By Kenny Penn7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Great poem Alyssa! Great use of puzzle piece imagery and building the metaphor
Insightful poem! I loved reading it.