I feel like I’m missing a piece of myself,
a piece that is staining my soul,
clearly in reach but the results are questionable
the violets of the garden change daily
one day I came and they were daisies,
the other day they were weeds spreading to suffocate my thoughts, but today there was
  n o t h i n g
there was no one to paint me to garden;
except myself,
so I painted a vase and waited for you