alone

thing by me: don't touch

some days i feel small
and fail
and infinitely fragile,
as though a touch or breath might make me fall
into
a
thousand
splintered
pieces on the floor,
never to be put back together.

this will pass:
it always does,
but during, all i want
is a padded box somewhere,
a corner of the world to hide in
until I dare face life again.
Indexing: