Pieces.

I am always fascinated
by those girls
you know the ones
they wrap their heads in bows
their ribboned crowns
like fruit hampers on
Christmas morning
only to disappoint the men
who open them.

I am always repulsed
by those men
you know the type
who crumble puzzle pieces
a breaded trail, behind them
they are waiting
for someone to pick them up
rather than follow
them back home.

I am always bewildered
by anyone
you know the kind
who are waiting for to strip
back their obvious layers
salty pearls welling up
in the rim of their eyes.

If I wanted to unravel something
I would buy a ball of yarn.