maybe there's a list inside of us,
the one keeping track of our pieces,
the pieces which make the person who we are.
the piece of you which loved sandcastles,
the one who'd scribble
on walls,
the one who'd find answers
in the breeze beating against your window -
where did you lose that part?
do you know where and when
you dismantled it from your soul
and let it sail along with the wind?
maybe you lost it, when you met him
or when you hugged her
or when they said they missed you.
you'd have lost it when you cried
over the death of someone
you barely know yet care enough to cry.
you might have lost it to the places
you go when home seems
too far
when family means nothing beyond
just the word itself and when
the map to your heart is torn and crumpled.
you think you are succeeding,
but life's all about losing,
losing your people, your places and your pieces.
what's then? what happens when you
lose everything, and there's nothing,
when you got nothing, you got nothing to lose?
i'd like to think the list is now empty,
but the pieces you lost are now memories.
that's when the clock in your body stops,
that's when you leave this cruel world,
knowing that you lost yet feeling
like winning over the stars and galaxies;
for if you didn't lose those pieces,
what's the point of living anyways?
• • • •
Author's note; thanks for today, L. I love you.