Something is lost

Every time we break
Put ourselves back together
Something is lost
We are never quite the same


We've swept up our own dust
Followed the lines
Glued the pieces where we think they belong
Marked by hairline fractures
Chips admitting light to our darkness


When and where and how
Do we decide it's enough
The parts no longer worth saving


Broom and dustpan brought out one last time
With deft flicks of the wrist
We are collected
Discreetly disposed