(Beginning the third week with a better grasp on my thoughts.  A skill being developed so far is making these seem more personal than they are by adding elements of myself but not necessarily pulling from exact experience.)

Listen to everything Allen Stone has ever made.

You used to be needed to be solved.
My thoughts of you were a collection of memories.
Things you said
Stories from your childhood
Fables from your adulthood
All of which would make a conventional painting of you.
In my mind, you’re a priceless Picasso
A jumbled face that I can still see the beauty in
Even if I don’t understand the total vision.

So I laid you across the bed
My workspace for positioning what I know about you to decipher what I don’t know about myself
Hoping to use my hands to caress a solution from the jumbled pile of all that is you.
The corner pieces
Your favorite color
Our first date
Why you cry when listening to “I’m A Mess”
I wanted to have every answer you needed to be whole.
But maybe
Some pieces were lost in our sheets
Because I never could complete you.

There is nothing wrong with being unable to find an explanation
Sometimes, puzzles are beyond one’s understanding and meant for another
And the best answer is to remove yourself from the problem altogether.
But for awhile, I put utensil to paper attempting to solve you.
Now, I don’t care why you’re an ex.