I took a nail
to my wooden heart
and hammered,
hard,
splitting the two halfs
apart.

The splinters
wedged,
further into my hands.
and I can't,
grip the edge
of the table that holds,
my shattered
soul.

I'm a carpenter.
but,
you'll find weather
my measurements
were rusty;
missing the mark.
and I'm
disregarded,
crushed.

Though tomorrow
I'll be working
sanding, smoothing,
re-glueing,
our scattered pieces
back together
unti'll we become
whole;

Polishing
my wooden heart,
inlaid
with your rose...