Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great

Mine is the fragrance of solitude and scar tissue; the sweaty smearing foundation of sepia-toned honeymoons; the hunch that nothing is alright or will ever be again. Trace my tear-stained face and —

fall
fall
fall

because I won’t be there to catch you
But mostly because

All the king's horses and all the king's men can’t
(be bothered to)
glue the pieces together again