Piece

She’d been fractured, splintered, and parsed for years
When the time came for all her edges to be smoothed and fine she leapt with joy
He brought sandpaper and got straight to work at mending, shaping, and sewing up
She gleamed with pride and comfort
After months of renovations-repainting and suturing she was made new

Resorted hope in softness abandoned cynicism and doubt and embraced the beauty of now
Sensing her newfound confidence and his now lack of use the sandman became obsessed
Interrogating her every whereabouts and with whom she shared her newness with
In disbelief she kept the sandman around and allowed him to continue to buffer her from time to time

He’d chant “You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine.”
But, she’d never been her own so she couldn’t fathom belonging to someone else
She shook him off grabbed his sandpapery hands and told him, I’m mine, my newness, this softness belongs to me. I won’t become rough again just so you can smooth me out again. I won’t be fragmented so you can keep a piece of me as a souvenir.

I’m whole and polished and I’ll always be.