There were long hyphens in our day-
When no one spoke; no one exhaled
As we contemplated the broken puzzles-
The broken tiles all over the floor
Some might have called us mad-
Insane- in this ceramic nightmare
Of yoga knees and bloody feet-
Empty bottles scattered on a garden mat
And still we persevered-
With our buckets of glue and fingers of paste
Figuring how to fit ourselves into this chaos-
Of porcelain folly and jaded beliefs
This irksome chaos of so-called matrimony-
This well-earned puzzle that some call LOVE.
