Pieces

This is a poem I wrote for my boyfriend (now husband) a year or so ago. I am learning that even pain and insecurity has value. I'm grateful I wrote this so now I can see how far I've come. Thanks be to God. 

Pieces

I am made of beautiful pieces 

Sparkling crystals hanging delicately 

Shining, captivating, inspiring to those who see the sparkle 

Perfectly arranged. I am perfectly content in who I am 

  

Until I forget 

That these pieces make up me 

  

Others, captivated by the sparkle see how my pieces could enrich them 

So they take them 

They twist the lines from which they hang 

They make them fit into their puzzle 

I am still beautiful 

But not free 

But not valued for my original arrangement 

Lost in their picture 

Hidden. My sparkle gets harder to see. 

  

My light dims as I strive to fit in their picture 

I miss my radiance; my freedom 

I long to help others, but forget I am able to if I don’t fit their picture 

So I escape 

  

The spaces between my sparkling pieces seem empty to me now 

They probably still shine 

They probably still inspire 

But all I see are the spaces 

And when I do see the pieces, I see failure 

They didn’t fit their picture 

  

Then you come.  

You see the radiance that I am still relearning how to see 

You see the arrangement of pieces that makes me who I am 

You see the crystals which have always been there, that are all I need. 

You recognize them 

And you have no desire to move them. To twist them. To make them fit you. 

Because they already fit you 

  

And although I am a perfectly arranged set of pieces just as I am, 

Your pieces fit mine 

My spaces don’t need to be filled for me to be happy and complete 

But you fill them anyway 

And now I am not only complete 

I am full 

  

I am free 

I am free to be free 

I have never felt such liberty 

I have never felt so unafraid 

  

But I am still afraid 

  

Out of habit, I still find myself fearing that at some point my pieces will not line up 

Out of habit, I expect you will begin to see ways in which I don’t fit. You will change your mind. 

Out of habit, I look for ways that I need to change to fit you 

I don’t need to change, and you show me 

But I can’t fathom that I could be good enough 

  

I can see how my pieces are beautiful independently 

But they have always lost their beauty when I’ve tried to fit someone else 

You are different 

I can see your pieces fit mine so perfectly 

But sometimes I am too scared to believe what I see