gleaming in the fluorescent light,
brighter than the moon against a pitch-dark sky,
breath catches, it’s beauty unforetold.
not everything in the lost and found has been discarded.
sitting on my bedroom floor
, clutching my sides as the tears roll down my cheek- my neck.
changes came so quickly- how could I have ever seen it coming?
I am lost, but I am not found.
the life pours out of them,
the corners of my mouth twitch up instead of down,
warmth of friendship surrounds me,
maybe I am not lost- but nor am I found.
what is a mirror? what do I see?
why can’t I see the shattered soul instead of the false smile?
why can’t I see the kind soul instead of the extra skin?
close my eyes instead, I don’t see me-
I see a little girl with a red balloon, desperately grasping the string.
it is time to find myself.
the lost and found is a bittersweet place,
with all kinds of gizmos and whozits.
the lovers, and fighters, the quiet, the loud.
all in a limbo. between the lost and the found.
blossoming flowers become new in water, so do the wilted hearts
as the snow melts and the dew forms- happy cries burst forth.
who knows what you might find in the lost and found- who you might find.
I found myself in the lost and found,
because not everything that is lost has been discarded.