the last jigsaw piece


19th May '11

u know I love you..
somehow the love gets lost..
and all you hear are the words..

I want to tell you
hold me
hold me real close...
somehow you hear the opposite
and push me away

I want to tell you
it hurts
i'm scared
but all I do is lash out in anger...
at having to tell you...
and you not understanding
on your own
by your own sense of me

I'm not half the person I used to be
there's just some fragments of me remaining here and there
which somehow sometimes adhocly come together...
and I exist... as a fragmentary-multiperson, whose never complete
who begins but never finishes, or finishes but never begins...
it's like
you can see me
but I'm not there

it takes an effort to be whole again

in crowds, it's easy
to fit in, to stand out, to talk, to laugh, to sing, to dance, or just be grumpy..
but what do you do, when there's no audience?
when you're just alone, with yourself, and then sometimes with the one who's home..

do you become your own audience?

how can logic always work?
how can the right way be the same right way for all?
how can one fit the wrong piece in the right jigsaw?
what if the missing piece never existed?