Mess

I fell to my knees and crawled away,

drenching the pavement with pathetic tears,

grazing my knees as I tried to reach

for the broken pieces of me scattered all around

[to take at least some of myself back with me.]

And he watched, felt a pang of guilt,

but stood silently, awkwardly,

unequipped to do anything.

I’ve been the starring role in a scene like this before,

I can accept my own damn mess.

I just wish he didn’t have to watch me clean it up.

                               -C.M.

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