I sit in front of the fire.
The heat makes my legs itch but,
It really doesn't warm me the way it used to.
You see I keep on glancing up at the shelf,
You're still on display up there, collecting dust and breathing stale air.
I want to pick you up again but porcelain dolls aren't really for playing,
I learned that the hard way when you shattered.
I ran out of glue and tape trying to fix the mistakes I made when I really shouldn't have been awake in the first place, and by now,
I should be better.
It's been years.
You've found your missing pieces and you're up and walking again and,
I don't think I really need you anymore, it's just that I won't know what to do if I let you go.
I guess I'm just afraid of glancing up and being met with only empty shelf space.
I know I need to let you out.
I've seen you sitting and wishing and thinking,
Trying to formulate an escape plan.
I know what I'm doing is wrong,
It's just, you've been up there for so long.
But as long as you're up there, confined by my eye,
I know dust is settling on me too.
Inches of it, feet by now,
But how do I shake it off?
How do I let you go and face
The empty shelf space?
YOU ARE READING
Disconnect: A Collection of My Brief Writings
PoetryWhenever I write a poem, short story, or just whatever is on my mind, it's going in here. This is a collection of my brief writings.
