Losing myself in pieces
Looking at my muddy reflection
in the iron-laden puddle that lay at my feet,
I was transported from another world
and fell back into reality.
I look around myself and remember,
and all at once I'm reminded
of the way my thoughts leak out en masse
as soon as they are born.
I thought that I couldn't loose what I never had,
since the world comes and goes
without leaving anything behind anything
besides a sheer and invisible echo,
But going back and forth for things that aren't there
is becoming scarier now that what used to be
is becoming steadily disappeared,
and I am only just present enough to watch them go.
I'm terrified of this empty attic and future,
but even as I mourn the loss of it all,
it's all either too heavy or too small to keep.
Since I was gone,
I didn't realize how much I'd lost
until my brother told me a story we shared,
and I felt like I was hearing it for the first time.
After that, I went looking for the broken thing
that kept turning those moments into ghosts,
but all I found were empty rooms,
and I got lost again as I went through them.
Because I felt so grounded,
it took too long for me to look up
and see that there's no gravity in my head
to keep things where they stay.
When potential memories are set down
they are not long to stay,
becuase they immediately up and escape
through that gaping hole in the roof.
Now when I find myself with too much time,
I lay down and I stare at that gaping absense
and imagine all the things
that have fallen up through it.
I can't miss what I can't remember,
but that doesn't stop the tears from falling
when I watch all the things I want to keep
floating slowly away.
I tie down what I can at night
to keep the important memories close,
but I fear that when I go looking for them tomorrow
I will find that I've lost them too,
because I'm losing myself in pieces.