i'm worth what i'll convince myself to be
sometimes (in the fall) i turn around and look and there's nothing behind me.
sometimes (in the fall) i turn around and look and there's nothing behind me.
so i hunt through the pages of my memory and every photograph is faded and torn. pieces of a past life. my eyes say to me, never mind. there's nothing here.
and then the wind blows a few drying leaves and my heart jumps into the air with a wild cartwheel that it can't explain. and as it settles back down with an apology, it has a gleam of Remember.
and so this is one life but many little ones. and i've learned that you can't rip them apart.
