Kaleidoscope Heart

I empty my kaleidoscope 

heart she thumbs 

her way through 

the pieces

Unafraid of being 

cut by the sharp edges
She takes her time

Flipping and moving 

A certain kind of puzzle

These marbled pieces 

of red and blue

Orange and green and
She moves 

the purple pieces 

to one side 

the grey to the other
I ask her why 

she does this

She says 

she doesn’t want 

to confuse my light

 with my dark 
She tells me not to worry

It will all make sense in time. 
I curl myself around her and we both witness the construction in front of us. 
I move a green 

piece here and she holds 

a blue one up to the morning

sun shining through

the window. It’s warm

glow catches all 

the brilliance of 

what I used to call sadness. 

She does not hurry. 
This puzzle 

I have become 

is only the beginning. 

It takes weeks

with these memories. 
We rearrange the story. 

We level the gaps

We cover the sharp edges

We hang it on the wall

We call it art
Sometimes I catch her slowly, 

carefully running her hand over it. Checking for any raised edges remaining. She already knows the pieces 

that can cut her. She doesn’t mind. 
Sometimes it slices 

through her tough skin. 

She bleeds and I mend. 

This is our exchange. 
She risks it all to touch me. 

I risk it all to allow her. 

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