Just a little something

Someone once said,

"We leave little pieces of ourselves in everything we love, or once loved."

 

And I wonder if that's what makes me feel so incomplete.

Maybe I could go back and gather them all again,

the pieces of me I left behind,

In the painting I made when I was sad,

or in the first love I ever had,

Perhaps it's still waiting

in the dream that never came true,

or in the little daisy that still blooms.

 

I wish I could gather every fragment, put it all into place,

and make myself whole again.

But I think even then,

you'd look at me and say "something's missing"

Because how could I ever take back

the heart that's still beating in your hands. 

 

- Willow Rose