chipped at the seams.
cracked into something new.
the cycle of a poorly-potted plant.
never enough sunlight. never
enough water. never enough
minerals. yellow, then dead. grow
again, then yellow.

enigma—nothing close to one.
all open for those who want,
rather than need.

those who take and wear different lives
like clothes then shed like old skin falling
off the bone. only want you for a time,
and when the skin becomes loose, it's
uncomfortable. can't stand being in it.
shed like they need a new life to wear.
cycle. repeat. over again. today and tomorrow.

how can people live like this, i say, as i
desperately search for which version
of myself i will wear that day. who am
i around? oh, this one will fit fine.
enigma. many tries—one combination.
but who can find it?