where am I...

we're creatures
   of comfortable
   compromise

promised
   the moon and stars,
   only to settle
   for a collection
   of vintage night lights
   and a few bright ideas

tickled red,
   glowing pink,
   and empty essence
   like the smiles of battered wives,
   keeping them alive

well wrapped
   in the string of days
   that stretches back
   further than memory

hung low enough
   for only the lonely
   to trip over,
   together falling
   into belonging

in the box
   for the pieces
   missing from puzzles,
   that stand alone
   as pretty pictures