I thought I understood it. That I could grasp it.
But I didn't, not really. Only the smudgeness of it, the pink-slippered, all-containered, semi-precious eagerness of it.
I didn't realise that it would sometimes be more than whole,
that the wholeness was a rather luxurious idea.
Because it's the halves that halve you in half.
Didn't know, don't know,
about the in-between bits,
the gory bits of you
and gory bits of me.
