Little Bits of Me
Little bits of me lie scattered
and exhausted across the surface of his couch.
More bits can be found in the pieces of his tattered pillow,
freshly combed from my hair,
now littering his bathroom floor.
Bits of me teeter on the drain in his tub.
Others linger on the jagged edges
of an unfinished slice of watermelon.
A fan lazily sails more bits
around the hallowed space over his still warm bed.
There are the bits too
that reflect on a life fractured
in the smooth surface of his mirror.
It's lovely really,
the way he breaks me down into these bits,
but this time he forgot
to put me back together again.
Reaching out for wholeness this morning,
I found only the scattered bits that were him.
Was there something I forgot to do?
Ah, no worry,
we can straighten out the bits next time.
Some pieces just did not want to waken from the dream;
parts of us refused to be sorted backinto the everyday of functionality.