On Breaking up with a Writer

I told you being a "place holder" was my biggest fear
And in one sweeping gesture
Not only that fear
But all of my smaller fears
Came true
In an instant

I stare at the broken pottery shards of our relationship
Colors that used to be brilliant, now dull on the floor
It doesn't take long to lose a hue
To fade a memory

Maybe we hold on to the pain because we want to keep telling the Story.