Wherever she went she left bits of her life behind her –
Not surprising to anyone who knew her
(And frequently chased after her with her forgotten keys, phone, coat)
That scattered round and about were her memories,
For what was the use of keeping them with her?
Bound about her like a tefillin,
Keeping the commandments of pain wrapped in?
What does it matter if that argument got lost on a train?
Or that heart-wrenching loss got washed, by tears, down a drain?
Anywhere will do that isn’t the brain.
Wherever she went she left bits of her life behind her,
Not really a surprise to anyone who knew her
(And sometimes picked up after her how she felt lonely)
That scattered round and about was her past –
It didn’t matter though – it didn’t last.
Throwing stones had shattered the glass
But it couldn’t catch her if she never fled
And it couldn’t hurt her if she never bled.
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