im a puzzle and i lose pieces of myself every time i love someone and lose them or maybe i exist because those pieces are missing now would i still be me if i were complete? would i still be me i thought pieces lost are pieces found that's the way of the world restless souls with pieces galore forlorn is he who contents with his mosaic incomplete would i still be me i thought i looked for love in every eye that shed a glance but when one emptied all that was his and quietly rearranged everything i made, everything i had i knew it had been longer than just a gaze would i still be me i thought the pieces interwined, the pieces talked the pieces fit so right like they were all I'd been searching for but i thought to myself how perfect can one be? so i shaped mine to fit what was his to find out what i'd lost was his to begin with would i still be me i thought a jigsaw puzzle to realise that the puzzle cannot be for one there wasn't any me, but only us the question lurked to be answered by time would we still be us?