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.
20th June 2011
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