The Real Tortured Poets Department Was the Friends We Made Along the Way

The Little Purple Beads That Fell Apart

by maximill1an

One day while we were at the mall, you got me these little purple beads.
The Beads were held together by a fragile string, one that could break at any moment, and fall apart.

But I cherished these beads, though they were cheaply made.
The paint wore away quickly, and soon disapeared, But I never discarded them.

You had some of your own, too.
Little pink beads, both alike in one way, that were connected.

Player 1 and Player 2.

Pink and Purple.

Moon and Sun.

Ying and Yang.

Two inseparable forces.

I always loved them, the little beads that would hang on my wrist daily.
Only coming off in the night, when the bright moon shone above everyone.

Until one day, the little beads separated across the world.

The little string that held us together broke.

Some flew over the ocean,
And some flew to the moon,

So that when they were done, all I was left with was a little string.

That day I thought our love was gone.
The little beads left, and you would leave too.

I broke something that you gave me,
A gift that symbolizes our love

But days passed, and you stayed.
You laughed and just got us new beads, more things for us to share,

For the Two of us together

The thin string doesn't hold us together.
Our love is not a string, nor is it the little beads.

Our love is like a blanket.
Our love is like the Sun.
Warm, and unconditional for the ones it cherishes.