I’m the words between the lines you don’t say
Most of me, is made up of assumptions people make, and I let them
Like static characters in your favorite novels who’s unwritten characteristics you make up in your mind
I am a thousand stereotypes to thousands
But in reality I don’t quite fit, and I defy every one of them
I’m the notes in between diminished chords
That clash and don’t belong
I’m that one crooked picture frame
An uneven hoodie string, just a little shorter than what I should be
The zipper that always gets stuck
A loose thread
And I’m an “almost” puzzle piece in a jigsaw puzzle made of glass
Just a shard
A mirror shard
reflecting an ugly past
Which is fine by me
But some days I get sick of being an unending decimal
Because although lots of people want someone who is incomplete so they can fix them
When they learn I am not repairable
No one wants a fractured and scarred little silver lock with cracks all along the sides
If they don’t have the key
No one wants to fill my crevices with little parts of themselves
And I would love someone made out of the darkest ink
Because you don’t need to be whole to be happy
I could trace the smudges they leave to make them beautiful
But no one else sees the world through a clear tape lens the way I do
So I’m stuck
Here
Where no one wants to find me
Because nothing good lives here
Just living in between

REPOST IF you have ever felt incomplete and unwanted
Comment! I love to read your interpretation of my poetry!