I met a man once who told me that the soul is split into three parts.
the first, the beauty you carry on your face and in your flesh. eyes as blue as a cloudless winter. every freckled shoulder, every broken bone. the look on your face when you know you're finally home. that crooked smile, running arms outstretched toward the river. dancing in the rain.
the second, the voice with which to sing. every word spoken in love. the lies you tell. the regret stuck in your throat. and then screaming out to stay, when it's the last second of the last day.
the third, the season that brings you in.
how the sun falls on your face and that shiver from the bitter cold. the piece you can't control. the heart pumping blood. the brain's wires crossed. the longing for death. the infatuation with living, breathing. your fate to feel, to love, to hate, to fear.
life's arms open to receive you and death waits to keep you.