The edges of the wallets of this photo album are scratching at my fingers

If I run them along in the right way, will blood be drawn, I wonder?

As it is they tear at me: my heart, my soul -

 

Life is one great big tear

In the fabric of my universe

 

Tainted

That's how I feel

Hollow, empty, numb, upset:

My emotions have been scarred

 

How can I breathe?

How can I still admire, be inspired, and desire

For things beyond my reach?

 

Longing.

Come back, dear part of me,

You were my childhood

I came through most of the teenage years

But you stopped.

 

You left me.

 

Alone.

I was never alone

And now I am.

 

At least I realised

Knew what you meant to me.

I knew you were there. And you knew I was too.

 

Understanding.

Even when you didn't, it was better than people's misunderstanding

And sometimes it helps not to be understood.

 

I love you

A part of me is dead but that part was not my

total capacity to love

I'm glad.

Gladder than I can say.

And really, this whole poem's about

What I cannot say.

 

The edges of the wallets of this photo album are scratching at my fingers

I close the pages

Stroke that photo of a younger me

That enviable child

 

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