Fragmented

Pieces of the human soul become blended

like potions in a cauldron. The body

houses a soul once whole. Like a puzzle,

pieces of the past stick to new memories.

Love is the glue that holds together

parts of my heart once severed. Days

go on: the present becomes the past. Life

slows down only when we do. It’s true;

the glass we look through is fragmented:

a mosaic of sorts. Lines often blur. Things

don’t seem to fit. There’s a growing list.

You will be okay. Do as you once wished.