Can you fit my heart into yours?
There’s a missing piece,
several,
actually,
and I’ve begged them to come home,
so we can be complete,
but,
God,
they’re just like me.
Off at parties they never wanted to attend,
reliving rickshaw rides,
and dances at bus stops,
that are only wonderful in their heads.

Hearts with heads,
God,
they’re just like me.
I see you’re missing pieces too.
You don’t have to tell me where they are,
or where you’ve been,
but,
maybe we can ignore what we lost,
and try to make a picture,
from the pieces that remain?
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