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.