if I inch a little closer, it will give me
warmth

I have felt like a million pieces of a human scattered about
in several fields and bushes
like ash floating in the sky
and seashells washed up on the shore

but with warmth,
realness and a true heart is remembered
and the abundance of smeared portraits of 

that sad girl
or that stupid girl
or that crazy girl
or any identity
is nothing more than a pen's strikeout on
a word
that just doesn't belong in
a perfect sentence