i started picking up the parts of me that have been broken.
i looked around at each place I'd been to,
on each corner where I probably lost it.
i found some under the table of the restaurant we used to love,
on the tiny pocket of your worn out stripped shirt.
some pieces made my fingertips bleed again,
but it's not as painful as it used to be.
and i know it will take me so much time to pick it all up.
but don't help me collect more.
don't break me once more─i don't want this jar to overflow.
// lone collector.