© Lee Bullitt, somewhere NY, 2017

All of Our Pieces

The snow’s curtain opens up to ashen brown alone.

You drape yourself onto me
and fit perfectly
as if we hadn’t made so many mistakes
as if we hadn’t wasted so much time before.

In the beginning
we were unsure.

Now,
bound without boundaries,
you and I
and all of our parts
all of our pieces
broken
deceptively sharp
fit together like
pain and pleasure
always have.