A Speech, Ready.

I know that each of us,

In the comfort of our own home,

Look at that rectangular picture.

Maybe framed above a desk, maybe propped up against a bookshelf, maybe buried deep in a forgotten drawer.

And we mourn and mourn

And ask God, “Why?”

Lost lovers look at the moon from different parts of the world

And wonder, “Is he looking at it too?”

We?

We look at the picture, our own self-made moon.

We hear phantom laughs and echoes of when we had each other.

We built us to break us.

Did we set ourselves up for failure?

Are some things really better left unsaid?

I have miles to go and places to see.

But, I’ll always have a speech ready.

Just for us, just for you.

The puzzle pieces that used to fit together,

Now bend their edges,

Never to fit again?