i fall down all the time
things slip out of my hands
my keys
her hand
the glass dinner plate
still intact and fractured
her soft words crumbling
slipping slowly
in between my fingers
i trip
stub my toe
bruise all too easily
i walk into trees
sometimes people
my skin likes to rip
and tug & sometimes i let it
things slip out of my hands
some stay
too long
become a part of
my calluses
and my tendons
the thread
of her voice
starts to distort
becomes harsh
a spiral of a wicked tongue
it wears me down
until i am nothing but bone



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