My edges are being worn away.
When the chips and cracks come
When they are raw and open
the tides of the days and hours
washes and washes the edges clean. Polishing and dulling at the same time
Until it’s all as smooth as it ever was.
The damage a memory, if even that.
And a person is whittled down to a very small piece of what she really was.
So it goes
Crack after chip after torn piece with bits still hanging on.  
All worn away by the merciful tide of time.
This is how a life can continue.  
Until just a speck remains.  
It’s the only way to go on.
The speck feels no pain.