unable to immediately locate my yellow sketchbook
suddenly aware a piece of my soul
of my heart
is missing.
and i can only rationalize two scenarios:
- i have temporarily misplaced it
- the light bulb stealing ***** stole that, too.
the second can't be true
because i feel whole,
just a little lost.
like those light bulbs she stole when i pulled out,
when i left the desert,
like those light bulbs were lighting my way
and now, here at the Gulf i must
rely
on the sun and the moon to guide me.
i'm not the best at relying,
trusting,
forgiving.
and that's so much of my existence here.
the sand shifts under my feet.
and i struggle for footing on higher ground.
but i lost my internal light long before she stole
my light bulbs.
and when i find my yellow sketch book
i can begin to piece me back together,
word by word.