like a lint trap collecting lint
i feel that i amass love as i live my day to day.
but my lint trap is never cleaned
and i cannot share my love.
a torturous punishment for the simple crime
of never learning how.

i lie in bed and hug a pillow
wishing it were flesh and bone
even though i'm aware
were it to be a person, i'd be scared to touch them

like a dryer whose lint trap is never cleaned
i live in fear, afraid that this is the day that i break.