smashed to pieces
My fingers thread in my hair
right at my forehead making me
wonder—is it to hold it out of the way,
or because I'm so frustrated with myself?
I said so many things I didn't mean as
literally as I said them. I simply let so much go
without holding back or even
I guess you could say I'm
lacking judment today, or even that
I'm lacking every day.
Everything I do is wrong.
Everything I say is wrong.
Every breath I breathe is wrong.
In my attempt to make excuses,
I'm failing—miserably. But
what would excuse this, honestly?
I was relieved to feel his fingers on my hips,
relieved to be pulled in by his strong amrs to his
relieved to hear him say I love you.
And then I collided with a
And smashed to pieces.