The morning I woke up
and discovered you were missing,
I went to every thrift shop in town,
every donation center and garage sale,
in search of you.
I went through garbage cans
and every lost and found,
trying to find you
but instead, I found
bits of myself
that I had given away or thrown out,
or had long since forgotten about.
I bought back every piece,
dug in dumpsters and
in the cracks of the sidewalks,
and took them all home to wash.
I rinsed them,
and dryed each one,
I began to put myself back together again,
and without an instruction manual.
And I still have some missing pieces,
some rusted screws,
some rough edges,
but I’m starting to feel whole again,
more whole than the morning I lost you,
more whole than when I thought I had you,
because you weren’t my other half.
I am whole,
a being all on my own,
so the one that comes after you
won’t try to cut me into
an easy half, but take me
in my entirety,
filling in the pieces of me
that I haven’t been able to find yet.