I am a mess,
Swept under the rug of yesterday’s home improvement,
A whimsical urge tossed aside for the easy reassurance of home and comfort.
I am the photograph tucked away as a book-mark,
In a book left, half unread,
Once reopened to find memories crawling back into peripheral sight,
Faded, creased, and lonely.
I long to be admired,
Long to be held, torn, and laughed at,
Like a distant relative or an old friend breathing in their last breath.
I missed the moment when time collapsed and memory was erased,
Replaced by finicky social experiments,
Lost in the blur of intoxication,
Sucked through multi-colored bendy-straws,
Making way for a spinning world where hub-caps stood still,
But our vision didn’t.
If I could leave you with only one thing,
It would be small, foldable, and made from trees,
With a few careless words,
Scribbled in blue;
Take a moment to learn me,
Take a moment to love me,
Because I need your love to live,
And without it,
I am nothing.