prompt: i feel like he was trying to tell me something importantMature

Intangible things have always felt like sand slipping through my fingers
and no matter how tightly I close my fists, there is space that I cannot fill
and all this time I’ve been trying to fill these cracks 
with mortar and tar and rubber and hoping the scars of things I’ve lost 
will help to remind me that I am always building, always adding on to myself.
I cannot hold my breath for longer than twenty seconds and
sometimes my attention span is about that long, too, but it doesn’t mean
I don’t want to hear you, it just means I am broken, too, and I hope
when my hands are slick and my grip is weak that you can understand
that all you have to do is make it real, make it harder for me to lose.
I want to hear you, I want to hear you, I want to hear you.
(Sometimes I just need to feel you, instead).

The End

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