Parts of the Puzzle

He's been missing a piece of the puzzle in 40 days. I've had that gap before, and I can't fill it with anything else. My life is out of balance. He crawls and leans toward the empty side, wobbly.

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Between time, straight to the wall. Falling, rolling, drifting, bleeding somewhere. Her nose's running out, the eyes running dry. It's hard to get up again and again. I feel a little more melted every time, it's over.

Why did I go like this, and what was my soul? My hope light went out, I wanted to live. It doesn't sound good to them, my wounds. Neither morning I feel happy when I kiss my daughter in her sleep, smell her, or enjoy a meal with aubergine and eat it.

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When I see a small child, he can smile, and I can order for the famous dessert. I can't call my mother very often. It's only because I'm afraid to cry and cry.

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