I’ve always been told I’m a mystery- a complication of atoms pressed together into a mess of a girl.

For years, people have seen me as a puzzle, something they must try to solve,

intrigued by my pieces, fiddling with my edges until some sections are assembled.

Then they hurry on their way, lost in the chaos of their lives, 

remembering bits and pieces of the girl who couldn’t be put together.

Left forever intrigued by things that can’t be fully explained-

the moon, the oceans tide, their messy consistency 

The long-lost-part-time-lovers write to the stars, in hopes that they’ll send down answers to where the puzzle of a girl might be

But all along, I have been right here. 

Laying in the grass, counting the leaves falling from trees like the boys who fell for me 

then fled like I was a storm they couldn’t take shelter from quick enough

If only they’d stayed and watched my words unfold, 

they wouldn’t be caught in the middle of my poems