Her shit lies on my floor
Not literally, but in literally every other sense
Her shirt lies on my floor
She started fixing me when I didn’t even know I was broken
Now that all I see is cracks
Where is she to mend them
That’s not her job anymore
Maybe it never was
Maybe the most important thing she did
Was to show me there were cracks
As gently as she did
My perfect imperfections
She gave me the strength to see my broken self
Am I strong enough to mend my self
I don’t know how to but
Her shirt wont hold the pieces together.

SelfDavid Birnbaum