She needs love
of a cosmic capacity
Something seventh level,
extraterrestrial

For she feels
this vessel
of flesh and bone
is a temporary home
she will molt one day
to break free
to higher ground

Sometimes I feel
like an imposter
A self constructed collage
of my favorite bits
of other people
I wonder
if those I admire
are constructed as well
out of those they place higher

Fear
seeps into my brain
when I think of leaving this world
having done nothing of importance,
having made no difference at all
I wonder
Is it too late for greatness?
To push through the pain?
Is it vain to still pray
they’ll remember my name?

Sometimes I bleed
in the form of tears
for the memories
I can no longer recall
I wonder
if they’re stored somewhere
tucked away safe
resurfacing only at the smell or sight
of something lost
I’ll fight
to not lose them again

When I reminisce
about the many spaces
my atoms have occupied
I wonder
Who occupies them now?
Are there fragments of me that still remain?
Moments in time that stayed the same?

I wonder
blossom,
grow and change
I deconstruct
And then start again