Submitted Date 06/14/2019

Are you falling apart? Are you breaking? Are you shattering and scattering and screaming so loud the world cracks and groans when all you wanted was to rattle your bones until they shake from beneath you and pile to the ground like an upturned jigsaw puzzle, like small change tossed free and waiting for the moment a child's eyes may eagerly spot the dim gleam?

There are those whose pockets churn with sound when the world quakes, and there are those whose pockets remain silent. Then there are people like you, who hope to fall apart. You want the stitches to come undone and unravel your flesh suit so you can step forward with your hollowed bones, pure and unweighted, and then curl up into some unknown pocket like spare coins until you can push your eyes back into their sockets and tug your skin over those unruly bones and smile without it flaking off. But you can't.

You've never been the one to drop your loose change on purpose, never been the one to walk soundlessly in hopes that you may hear a child's delight. You attacked the world with the jangle of quarters and dimes and nickels and pennies and you kept them for yourself. But that doesn't mean you don't have the right to put yourself back together.

Lock your bones in place; pencil in your veins. Let me hold you until you can become yourself again. Are you still falling apart? It's small change to the universe, this small change.

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