How do you relate to the unrelatable?

Wrapped presents
crinkle and rip;
warm arms meant for
someone else.
Chipped potential
begging for a chance
at cat and mouse.
You strip me down to 
my wretched center,
stepping on the clothes
I thought you’d find pretty.
We’re a lost cause
covered in bows
and taped just so.
I’ll try on new outfits
if it makes you happy,
but these things
never fit —
stuffed around
a common wreath
like poised ceramic sculptures.
Scrunched gifts
beg to fit but
your gaudy jewels
snip the ribbons
of the present
I thought
was mine.

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