It’s time I looked at another as at my own face in the mirror.

But it’s only because I’ve stopped judging myself.

I’m bothered no more by all those warts and blemishes

upon that clear skin of yesterday.

Like the broken pieces of a shattered clay pot,

like the slips of a sheet, ripped apart,

like the jagged edges of a jigsaw puzzle,

we meet, seamless, at the edges of our flaws,

in a perfect match to become one whole.

It takes another and yet another,

forever coming together,

to complete my own story.