I was gone around a month. Before reality sank in.

There was a place where individuals were suspended

Left to float, feed themselves on thin air. It was always enough.

Forgot myself and became someone else. For the better.

The ones who say for the worst I left in the past.

I was gone around a month. Before I cried.

It was a Wednesday night that I realised.

Under-whelmed, discontented, heart-broken.

Had my legs cut off and my eyes held wide open.

I was gone around a month, before I thought

Of each piece that completed you to me,

Disected and labeled you piece by piece.

The suburbs the maker, the breaker. I'm recognisable here

To the same faces I've been avoiding these years.