In the heart of darkness
Is
A delicate candle
Fragile
Way
Down in the corner
Waiting...
Waiting in smallness
Hoping to
Light up
The wick is burnt
To a crisp
Bring a knife...
A gentle touch
And some matches

I am always just a version of myself.

Have I ever really known the full me?
Not necessarily.
She is but an aggregation of all the experiences she's ever had,
people she's ever met,
memories she's ever made,
even the ones that have been lost to time.

My personality, speech, and mannerisms are all imprints made by passersby.

Need I know the full me?
No, not necessarily.
Like stained glass that misses the details,
I am a mosaic known only in concept and suggestion,
and this is enough as inhabitant of this body,
even if the resident is unknown to self.

if i told the sea
the way in which
I feel for you;
she would leave her shores
abandon her waves
and follow me across
the endless horizon
in search of you.

And yet more was said
In the space
between the breaths
between the words
Of what you thought you were trying to say,
The way your eyes looked away

Hold your tongue my love,
I already know
Joy cannot come if it cannot go