I've lost something, but I'm not quite certain of what.
It's feels like when you reach for a wallet or a phone.
Knowing it's there only to find it's not.
There's a brief moment of lightning panic
as you completely blank on where you left them.
I live in that moment now.
I know what I need is close, painfully so.
It's in the space between heart beats.
In the lines connecting my memories.
The dust in my dying mind.
It had a name I know.
A name that somehow felt like home.
Like it was written in every cell and every bone.
Yet not at all especially special from the others.
I breathe and I breathe.
And slowly ever so slowly.
I feel the thrum and vibrations
I feel the noise and chaos
I feel the endless connected expanse.
Everything me rushes away like a wayward wave.
I see the rubik pieces of a life in front of me.
I see the mistakes and the losses.
I see too the victories and the happiness.
As ever reality comes rising, looming.
But I see the worries and the fears.
I seem them and know their weight.
Like an old pair of jeans or shoes.
Fitting just to you and so familiar.
But this is ok.
Because I remember as you always do.
Where we left the most important things to us.
I know her name as I always would.
Who could forget a part of their soul?
Need to talk?
If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741