If You Can't Write What You Should, Write What You Can.

I was too scattered today to write a coherent blog. Too scattered today to gather clear sentences before they flew away. But born of this is a new writing philosophy for me - if you can't write what you should, write what you can. Prose would not come, so here is a new poem.

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 back

into the everyday of functionality.