Pieces of me everywhere

I connected with this poem immediately, probably because I'm an untidy person too? Haha~
Sometimes I feel like there're so many odd little pieces of me everywhere, that I cannot safely say
which makes me me, because they are all part of me. Sometimes I may be physically here, but I'll
be somewhere else inside my head. Oh dear, this came out sounding a little weird. Anyway,

Slatten

I leave myself about, slattenly,
bits of me, and times I liked:
I let them go on lying where
they fall, crumple, if they will.
I know fine how to make them walk
and breathe again. Sometimes at night,
or on the train, I dream I'm dancing,
or lying in someone's arms who says
he loves my eyes in French, and again
and again I am walking up your road,
that first time, bidden and wanted,
the blossom on the trees, light,
light and buoyant. Pull yourself
together, they say, quite rightly,
but she is stubborn, that girl,
that hopeful one, still walking.

Kate Clanchy