The Missing Piece

Buttered toast is all you can cook You bring me over a slice I’ve noticed you’ve already had a bite You have a tendency of doing this If I held your heart in my hand Beating away, blood dripping down my hand It wouldn’t be all there I don’t need to be a surgeon to work that out You call me over to see a puzzle you’ve done It’s of an old ship, all 1,000 pieces I place a hand on your shoulder ‘There’s only 999 pieces there’ Where the sail is The little outline of the table shown You tell me ‘I’m all yours’ But I don’t think that’s true There’s always a piece missing I’ve checked everywhere Even my pockets I can’t find it.