I open the box of puzzle pieces that are my pain.
As I sort through the jumble of jagged bleeding pieces, I notice
The edges form the suit of armor so familiar, comfortable, and suffocating.
The colors are muted and faded.
The design prescribed by others
Edges no longer match.
Pieces no longer fit.
The picture on the box, so attractive and acceptable to others,
The image I am told I should want to form seems
Unacceptable to me.
One by one, I lovingly scrape off the blood and reshape the pieces.
I add vibrant colors
The suit of armor is replaced by a blanket, warm, cozy, comforting and fluid.
I allow the tenderness to mold, not an image, but a feeling. A feeling
I am finding myself, one piece at a time.