I miss the way we used to talk about everything, everything you could possibly think about.
We used to laugh and smile and do such carefree things and we would simply just .... be.

Now we step around the broken glass, the broken pieces, the shattered bits of our hearts that we are both afraid to pick up.
Afraid that if we even try, we will break, shatter, scatter even more.

But I would pick them up if I could. I wish you could believe that.
But we all know my clumsy hands would just scatter them even farther.
Crush them even smaller.
Oh how I wish I could put us back together again.
Oh, how I wish I could put you back together again.