Sticky
like the glue I used between
myself and anything.
Loathing the truth that love requires loss.
Set on keeping something sacred.
Just one thing,
just once.
Nothing is sticky
like trying to keep something glued
when all the pieces keep falling apart:
over
and over.
Not one thing is stickier
than getting the glue stuck between
your fingers.
Then you stay stuck.
You can’t fix it anymore either.
Not one thing
stays stuck.
Still sticky
over and over.
11 thoughts on "Sticky"
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This is such lovely and relatable imagery for this feeling. Well done
Thank you so much!
just like a dried up elmer’s glue stick! this resonates with me as memories that are always with me but so blurry i don’t know why…
I love that you think about it in this way. It’s not what I was thinking of while writing, but I love all the perspectives other people can add to it.
A concept, genius in its simplicity, expertly executed. That’s what this poem is.
This means so much, thank you!
“Loathing the truth that love requires loss.
Set on keeping something sacred.
Just one thing,
just once.”
Something about how “loss” and “once” land scratches an itch in my brain that feels great.
Haha, so glad I could scratch an itch!
This poem stuck to me. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you for sharing your experience!
Who would have thought: surgeons have replaced stitches with glue?