Fall Apart

“What is it like to fall apart?”
the waiter asked me as I ordered the soup.
Is it that obvious? Can he read it on my face?
I raise the menu
hoping to live behind it
forever.
What’s it like to live unhinged? To feel the air seep out of your soul?
I cannot say; I need that air to breathe
words don’t vibrate in a vacuum
they splash and sink without a sound
like sand in an oil spill
lost in the black

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