Puzzle pieces saturated by
Lost from their proper sets
they try to fit but do not match.
Sweeping chromaticism dancing before opened eyes,
Blurred edges, a drunken haze,
muddy images, elongating tendrils stretching between
as they separate.
Dampened with moldy spores,
an occasional rotational droplet declines
a lone shape to die in solitude.
If only I could see it’s death
to mourn what never was,
but I can’t see
for I’m blinded by my tears.