Deconstructed

You took me apart

piece

by

piece.

Separated each fragment of my body and my soul

and laid me along the earth.

I thought you looked at me like I was one of Neptune’s moons

but I didn’t realize you were analyzing me the way a predator does prey.

 

You pushed aside my  poetry

and reached for my passion

my drive

my will

my heart

my energy

my hope

me.

You left me with nothing but a bag of skin and bones.

 

I like to pretend I still have all of my pieces.

I like to imagine you don’t carry some around with you

tucked in your back pocket.

I like to tell myself that some of my pieces haven’t been left on the side of an old highway

only to be run over by a stranger driving home.

 

Maybe you think I’ll come back looking for my missing pieces.

In truth,

I almost did.

I wanted to.

Hell, I still want to.

I so desperately need those parts of me you stole

but you won’t seem to return them.

I don’t think you even remember you have them.

I don’t think you even remember me.