Puzzle

Were we not,
Pieces of the puzzle
Put together once again?
All the little details that did not matter,
And all the little details that did.
The sweat I hate by morning
Turning into the effort of tasting life.
The perception through which love is an image
Reviving in every taste, smell and touch.
Was it not morning and day in the same hour,
Summer and winter in the same season?
Sun that rises to spread heat
Between your ribs,
And winter rain as evidence
For passion that landed not so quick?
The difficulty of leaving your soul behind.
It is the hug and the separation,
It is desire and rejection.
It was growing up like children playing
Into adults that long for intimate moments.
Finally, that look in your eyes,
Time stops, it waits for you.
The beat of your heart, the drum.
We lived and once again we die.
We separate like puzzle pieces,
Puzzled.


(This is the "raw" poem. It has not been edited by my official editor quite yet :D )