Pieces

You try to collect the pieces
Scattered across coffee-shops and movie halls
Flying around in the emptiness, soaring high
You hear them break into further pieces when they fall

They have a reflective surface, quite like mirrors
They pinch and hurt and bleed when they stick to you
You cast them off, leave them behind
While the path glitters- Grey and cold and blue

They are everywhere you go
Every turn, every corner, every dead end
They fall, they scatter further and they stick to you
You chase them, you run away from them, you hurt and pretend

As if they are not pieces of you
As if they are not the pieces of your broken heart
Of winter skies, sunny mornings, intoxicating nights
Of your bittersweet, not-so-long-ago past...