bare-bones

a petty thief who trades in forgotten pieces of you

—under the clock
sits a box with your lips
and other various body parts
that make up a human

your breathy laugh
the kind that sounds like rustling leaves
in the thick of autumn

your toes that curl while you stretch
like a lounging cat
i have so much of you here

because i stole you

i stole the pieces i could manage to grasp in my fists
and stuff my small pockets full

i am a petty thief

who only deals in memories
and i know i cannot be forgiven
but you must know

i didn't steal it all

left behind in the rubble were your crisp coffee rings
on my table
you could never keep the cup steady in those giddy hands of yours

i don't have your fingers, but i do have your favorite book

oh god, when i open it
i swear your voice fills this hollow room

i'm not sure why you left it
why the best pieces were the ones you forgot
or why you never returned

or why when i put these incoherent parts together they paint a messy picture
of someone i don't know anymore
or a machine that only does half the work

you are brand new out there in the world
and i'm still trying to figure out the original

the one who licked his lips in thought
and told me that i am a force of nature

the one who told me
boxes are for storage and not for people

the man who looked at the moon and said
"she must hate having to face this mess"

the clock is still ticking, my love

but i don't even look at it that often

Vacantly,
RB