Crafting an Us was like sculpting
A marble block
Raw potential, simple lines, aggressive edges

We took turns holding the chisel
Which more often than not was used as a hammer
No tender strokes
But destructive blows

Chunks flying left and right
No way to put it back
It’s gone, that part
There goes yet another one

We took more than we brought
To the table
To each other’s time
To art

Crafting an Us was like sculpting
A shapeless chaos
Signed by our butterfingered hands

Precarious attempts
At love
And life