Bits Of Me

There is a part of me.
I wish I could tear out.
Like paper.
I wish I could glue back a fresh piece.

One that hasn't seen ink.
And sharp edges.

Bits of me are full with regret.
I wish I could.
Squeeze my loins like rags.

And watch the,
pain of nostalgia pour out.
I am a sponge that has,
soaked in all too much.

And is sinking in what it fed from.

- HP.