with every glance,
with every touch,
with every word you spoke, a piece of my soul chipped,
and fell off into your hands.
over the years you collected every bit of it.
you put that little bit of me in a jar and showed it off to everyone,
and when you were done with it you put it on your highest shelf.
you forgot to give it back.
i've called you several times since then,
begging you to return what you took,
but you were too busy stealing someone else's soul to bother with mine.
when i was a child my aunt told me to chase my soul,
no matter where it took me,
but i've given up with chasing after it,
because it leads me to the same spot every time.
the corner of your highest shelf.