Not Enough Glue

I am cracks,
fissures,
and holes
with no glue
to fix me.

I break easily.

I shatter
with a touch,
and if you dare
to come near,
a breath might
obliterate
the tenuous grip
I have on myself.

Yet,

I know you’re
far away,
a millenia
and an ocean
away,
but your arms
might heal me.

The feel
of your words
caressing me
could fix
these holes,

but you don’t want
to hold me anymore.

Maybe you never really did.

~Patience

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