Further we drop

fruitless I whisper

The leaves hang in the balance, and drop

sure as the snow that might never come,

sure as the electricity which might never run

and blizzards are fun if you’ve never been in one;

I guess.

      —

So I am waiting for the grey area to dissipate and (separate)

because feeling one way or the other half the time doesn’t

help,

about anything.

Does that make

sense?

    —

Shelter my ****,

forgive my own self-loathing,

love like there’s nothing we’d rather do

(it’s true)

please only

be

and i will try

to be

as well,

(do you understand?)

    —

This mismatched magnet love words

tongue-strung-together

and with glue and

string,

and piece me back together like that puzzle

I told everyone I was when I was

12.

—

All those missing pieces, how

they

bite and blister,

glisten and glitter,

slither through cracks where I don’t expect to find them,

I am hoping for the black-and-white-life.

(It won’t, doesn’t exist.)

(There are

too many shadows,

and the time does tick

I guess.)

I guess I am waiting for an answer that I cannot find,

I question I don’t even know how to ask.

    —

Remember, remember,

in the stupor, in the wondrous

days of wasting away,

remember those were not the good days.

People live to find themselves whole,

and you tried to

disappear,

and how lovely and lonely

that never should have been,

and still never was.