I’m a mess.
The majority of us are
and it’s ok.
I have accepted that these
will remain sprinkled all over my place –
depending on how long I stay over.
Why can’t what I’m looking for
come attached to who I find?
my what always changes
so my who quickly follows suit.
I do know some things
on days when I have clarity.
Don’t ask me to be myself
then get frightened when I act weird.
Being lost in my quiet
doesn’t always require a rescue.
I don’t need someone
complaining about missing spots
while attempting to sweep me off of my feet.
I don’t need mopping
or dusting off.
Give me someone who sees
something in me
and believes that I don’t need cleaning.