Tuesday, September 27, 2016

You Can't Hear The Laughter In My Head

I'm leaving pieces of myself everywhere
little strips ripped off when I'm not even looking
I pick them up
from time to time
then find another one
wonder that I didn't feel the catch
as it tore
I wander through these spaces
feel a tug, wonder why
and turn to see
yet another little piece of me
left behind

come fix me
I shrug
and, this, this is other news
come fix me with hands
and pressure
and relax me back together
the big pieces
too tight
too taut
too large to be torn into strips
but you
you could fix me
I'm sure of this
but hey
we can't all be convenient I guess

I'll send you signals through the crowd
made with hands and spelled out in digits
flash it twice and it's
time for us to go
everyone has a different take
and our story is ours
but even then
mine is not yours
and you
are only slightly mine

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