You-Crumbs

Fragments of a buried life, microscopic pieces, gathering and breeding, in all the little creases. Snapshots, stills and scrapbooks, documented angst, diaries of disasters,of when I craved another chance. Handled like a teeny fragile delicate new-born, hands grasped too hard now it lies broken and torn. It's always this way, destroy all that I touch, so I keep you in jars, the temptation too much. I seal up my thoughts and I write them all down, untouched so I stand back to see how they've grown. Some fragments have splintered some hairy from dust, for those I wept tears on have crumbled from rust. But those I hold precious, the last you-crumbs I've got, I've locked up, protected, concealed from the rot.