(from Latin fractus, “broken")

are a fraction of time.
The few interludes
that sit in the little spaces
of my day.

One-third of the evening,
I soak my regrets in wine.
The other two,
Convincing myself,
"I'll be fine.”

One-tenth of the night,
I think of how you broke
my heart.
The other nine,
forgetting how I broke
your heart.

are a fraction of time,
and many of the bits
and minutes of you,
makeup the whole
of me.

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