Moiety
It truly is quite a conundrum
and day and night, I ponder it.
In my hands I hold the lifeless
rag-doll remnants of our friendship
and still, I can not bury it.
I long to fly freely forward
but some force holds me still.
The problem lies within, I espy.
While all else is sound and whole,
there is a small, jagged hollow
from which a vital piece was taken.
You have a moiety of my heart,
not given to you intentionally,
but so it is, nonetheless.
Please, I beg you, return it,
so I may flee this desolate land.
Bring back the moiety of my heart
that leaves me waiting and incomplete.
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