Pieces that were held with a selfish sort of need by someone who
saw some value in them. But never the whole.
My willingness to provide, a favorite piece, has known much love.
My desire to see a smile, and to give comfort, often cared for.
Even my desire for desire itself, has been favored for a time.
But never once has the whole of me known love.
How sad it is, to look at the pieces left over, and realize that
they are what is left. The unloved bits.
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