Pieces
She said she would break my heart, not knowing that those who had come before her had left only a swept-up pile of shards. I told her she was welcome to whatever leftover bits she desired. She smiled and crinkled her nose and called me silly. But when she left, she took the pieces she wanted most - to collect in her drawer, perhaps someday to become part of a mosaic hung in the sunlight streaming through her window - and left the rest behind. Still, that's the beauty of a heart that's been broken - there are so many pieces, I can't possibly live long enough to ever give them all away.
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