Everyone is a delicate, detailed puzzle piece, different on each side.
Each person has pieces that fit against them, nearly perfect.
And when we find pieces like that, it’s easy to latch on.
When we find those pieces, it’s hard to let go.
They fit against you like a missing piece beckoned home.
Their shape might have bumps where yours does not, caving in.
They might not be perfect for you, while they might be perfect to you.
You search for something that will devour that cave-in, destroy it, make it perfect, but it won’t be.
It will always have that cave.
No matter how hard you try to fix it, that cave stays.
And then they get pulled away, leaving you aching and raw because you felt whole for a brief moment.
You felt good, and yourself, and you didn’t have to hide, and it’s torn away before you can comprehend it’s beauty.

Each person has that one piece the fits perfectly, maybe on more than one side.