(Written 20 March 2025, 11:27 pm ET)
All of the pieces of my soul,
Especially the ones shaped like people I know,
Ache terribly.
Especially the ones shaped like people I know,
Ache terribly.
Is meaning buried in one of them?
Or has it seeped away through the gaps
When I let them drift too far apart?
Some of the pieces of my soul,
Probably the ones I never meant to silence,
Are too quiet.
We once conversed,
And I learned things
Until I started teaching.
None of the pieces of my soul
Feel whole.
Who reaches out to me?
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