From Years Ago

I'm not sure what holds me together. I feel like one wrong word will cause my body to burst and my atoms will shoot in a million different directions to be formed into something far more useful than the shape they take now. Or perhaps I'll collapse into dust that's carried away by the wind. I'll travel over seas and continents to settle in the lungs of some girl like me who doesn't quite know what she wants and probably won't ever fully know. Or maybe I'm already disappearing. Slowly bleeding out with every melancholy day until all that's left of me is a withered shell that's even emptier than I am now.