All the scattered pieces
the bits of me that broke off in your hands
crumbled away with each doubt
I had forgotten what they all were
from what part of me they fell missing
they became locked up so tight
in this house that was you and I
stuffed into cracks
like tar paper and gum
to keep the rooms from collapsing
these bits of china and mirror
cutting our fingers
reminding us they were still there
bits of my hurried soul
not quite crushed to dust
lost to years of anger
sacrificed to cement this edifice
of a self that was necessary
but not wanted
So many disperate fragments
are there enough
if I take down the house
can I build a new room
with no walls
Oct. 5th, 2009