scribbled in blue;

Manage me,

I am a mess,
swept under the rug of yesterday's home improvement,
a whimsical urge tossed aside for the easy reassurance of home and comfort.
I am the photograph tucked away as a book-mark,
in a book left half unread,
once reopened to find memories crawling back into peripheral sight,
faded, creased and lonely.
I long to be admired,
long to be held, torn and laughed at,
laughed with,
like a distant relative or an old friend breathing in their last breath.
I missed the moment when time collapsed and memory was erased,
replaced by finicky social experiments,
lost in the blur of intoxication,
sucked through multi-colored bendy-straws,
making way for a spinning world where hub-caps stood still,
but our vision didn't.
If I could leave you with only one thing,
it would be small, foldable, and made from trees,
with a few careless words,
scribbled in blue;
Take a minute to learn me,
take a moment to love me,
because I need your love to live,
and without it,
I am nothing.
-Alexander William Gaskarth