[Diarist: Anonymous]
Pieces
The world is breaking down,
Falling apart.
Sometimes at night I feel like I can’t hold my pieces together
I don’t know where they are
Not for a while now, but even more now
I’ve looked under my bed
And under my pillows
But I can’t find them anywhere
And I stay up at night trying to remember where I put them
I empty all my drawers out
Unfold and re-fold my clothes, my mom’s clothes, my grandmother’s clothes.
I look through albums, books, journals but none of the words tell me where to look
And I don’t know what to look for
What shape and colour my pieces are
I know some of them are here, in this bed, but some are trapped back home
And I can’t get to them now, or anytime soon,
But when you hold me really really really tight
And I can feel your hipbones dig into my tummy and fill me out
When you lie on top of me until I can’t breathe
When your hands are inside of me and I can’t speak or see or think
When we kiss under pillows and covers and the light is off and the room is dark and I don’t know what’s what, whether I’m kissing your eyes, ears, nose or mouth, but I can feel soft and fluffy and eyelashes on my skin
When all of your pieces fit, into where my pieces are not there anymore
And I don’t know what to say or how to say it
But then
I don’t think about my pieces anymore.
