I hammered in nails
Along my walls
Pinned coordinates on a map.
I bought frames.
Different colours of pastel
Variations and indentations
They looked like Christmas cookies.
On a Wednesday,
I would gaze at the frames I hung
We slide in a photo or two.
In the frames with a thin glass,
To protect the little we have.
Came late February,
Straight lines no more.
Tilted and hanging by a frayed wire.
They started dropping off the walls.
Shattered were the glass like puddles of glistening water.
Scratched frames like scraped knees on rough roads.
Disfigured photos like wrong pieces of puzzles put together.
My hands bloody from picking up the photos within the puddles of glass.
Broken wires replaced by you.
With a nail in my heart,
The frames were up and aligned.
Empty, hoping to be filled.
Once again, by you.