Puzzle Pieces in My Pocket

Words stretch across my chest and try to fill the holes in my heart.
They don't reach.
Lyrics of songs pour in and fill me up until my eyes start to leak.
They won't stop. 
It's a never ending fountain of flood waters.
I hold my breath.
I will it to stop.
I pretend it's okay.
But it's not okay.
The songs hurt like knives and the memories plague me and I can't stop thinking about you.
About all of you.
About every soul that pushed me to my breaking point.
And then pushed a little more until I broke.
Now I'm in pieces, and I was never any good at puzzles.
The pieces of me are all mixed up.
Some of them still want you, still love you, still need you.
Some of them hate you, and hate me, and hate what we had.
Some of them feel lost in a sea, unsure of where they stand.
And me?
I can't find them all, all the broken parts.
And I don't know how to fix them, how to stick them back together.
So I gather up what I can find and I shove them in my back pocket, like that might help me heal.
But it doesn't and I don't think it will.