Dropped

When people ask carefully,
And respectfully,
I try to explain it to them,

It's like you have a hole in your chest,
There's a phone in there,
It's ringing off the fucking hook,
You know with every fiber built around that hole,
That the one person who gets it, and you,
Is on the other end,

And every time you reach in,
And pick it up,
And put it to your ear,

Static,

Every,

Fucking,

Time,

No one really gets that,
It doesn't resonate right,

Let me try again,

In 1945 America dropped two bombs on Japan,
To end the war,
To lower the loss of life,
And any number of other reasons,
Up to and including,
We wanted to,

The bombs left burn marks in the buildings of the people,
The only things left from the people caught in the blast,

It's kind of like that,
And I mean no disrespect to Japan,
Or the people affected by our actions as a nation,

But it's like that,
It's like I was dropped into this world,
And she was burned into my skin,

She was there,
I knew she was there,
But I can't see her shadow,
Only feel it,
Itchy and raw in between the layers of skin,
A small hole in my heart,
The part connected to her,
That left nothing but a crater in there,

So here I stand,
With my shadow,
Struggling to understand it without her,

Confused,
Perpetually alone even in a room full of loved ones,
And no amount of hugs can fill that hole,
I don't do the right things,
I don't quite handle the love transaction well,

I am sorry for that,
But I was born broken,
And ever since then I've been trying,
Trying to put it all right,
Without all the right pieces,

In Hiroshima and Nagasaki,
They wiped down all the shadows burned into the buildings,
But the buildings still know,
They stood witness to it,

I have some idea how the buildings feel,
And I can't find a way to wipe it off,
Not that I would want to,
Since it's all I have,
All I have of the rest of me.

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