I never knew which
was worse – the falling apart
or the wanting to


much, much

I just realized
that I’ve been pretending like
I care for so long

I had forgotten
how much harder it is to
pretend that I don’t

you knew too

I hold you in my hands
  (but something about the shape)
I hold with all my might
  (it doesn’t fit, it isn’t right)

Mine because I hold
Want because I have
I try to raise you up but the weight
it’s not enough and far too much
  (but mine, but want)

I hold you in my hands
but they know
and they can’t.