The broken bits and pieces
of you have scattered again;
littering the ground with unwanted emotion,
as by-passers side-eye
and silently judge you
for breaking the stoic silence
that we’ve instilled
over the years.
But no one seems to bother,
pick up the ring finger
that rattled towards the storm grate;
an arm waves limply
as you stumble to sieze
the missing part.
In a sea of people, you remain alone
struggling to stuff the pieces back on,
at least well enough that you can hurry away
and sew together in private
the bits and pieces
that you are desperate
to share.