The gory bits of me.

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 realize 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.
I didn't know, don't know, about the in-between bits;
the gory bits of you, and the gory bits of me.

Like Crazy (2011) by Drake  Doremus.