dirty little pieces

what happens when words fail,

left unsaid on the kitchen floor,

dirty little pieces to be picked up

and thrown out once they've expired.

sentiments and desires unspoken

wadded up, crumbled to the ground

like yesterday's dinner crumbs.

i wonder what your crumbs would say

if i swept them up and kept them,

shoving them in my pocket

for safekeeping.

trash to everyone but me.