Losing Parts of You Like;

I am losing parts of you like I lose eyelashes,

unknowingly and everywhere.

I am losing parts of you like I lose my creativity,

unwilling to produce art.

I am losing parts of you like I lose so many pieces to puzzles,

puzzles I’ve held onto for years,

in hopes I’d complete them.

I am losing parts of you like I lose little pieces of my sanity,

with every anxiety attack,

every crying mess I’ve hid in the bathroom.

I am losing parts of you like I lose my hair,

shedding thick broken strands,

whenever I comb or wash it.

I am losing parts of you like I lose my concentration,

letting ADD from my childhood take over my brain.

I am losing parts of you like I lose my train of thought,

filled with over-thinking and questioning.

I am losing parts of you like I lose one of my socks,

whenever I put a load through the dryer.

I am losing parts of you like I lose pieces to my Lego sets,

each scattered piece picked up by felines

that jump on the organized piles strewn about.

I am losing parts of you like I lose my place in my book,

the bookmark remains on the floor,

unnoticed.

I am losing parts of you like I lose my patience,

getting angry over every little mistake.

I am losing parts of you like I lose my hydration,

sipping away at coffee and tea,

refusing water.

I am losing parts of you,

whenever I look into the mirror,

and see someone I don’t recognize.

 

– the old me

 

Italicized fraction from:  Milk and Honey, pg. 127, Rupi Kaur 2014