I can fit anywhere.
No! I am not boasting of my adaptability.
I fit.
I fill.
The gaps.
My presence is forever conditional.
Conditions driven by need, fancy,mood.
Do I mould easily?
Well...I try.
There is too much of my own baggage.
I try to throw some out for a comfort fit.
For a good fit ensures strong stable bonds.
Oh yes! That comes from my freakingly unstable brains.
The baggage. It has stuff collected
out of My need, My fancy and My moods.
Collected over time, with lots of love and care and contemplation.
Each little thing in there is hugely possessive of me.
They refuse to let me go.
Tug me back hard...
Till either I leave or am pushed out.
I squeeze out.
Leaving a bit of me in those gaps.
Till someone with less weight finds the way
Into those punctuation spots.
I move on.
Yeah well.
I try to.
Those lil scraps of me, left in those spaces
Of my illusions I guess, pull me back
Trying to pin me down.
Tug of war it is.
Between the nomad and the tired soul.
I remain
Eglaf.
