Stolen Pieces

Stolen pieces of my life follow a thief somewhere out there,

Rubies of a bright shimmering light that only I could really see,

Taken silently while nobody watched, cared or expected,

Somehow though a menacing presence came for a while,

Into my space, into my hopes and dreams and did as they pleased,

Now they are gone and there isn’t even a trace,

Just that missing space,

Where the pieces sat awkwardly,

But tenderly in the way that I chose,

My life, my way, my space,

Now there are just gaping holes,

Where my clutching fingers try hold on,

Try understand, try forgive and to put things as they were,

But gone is gone and this feeling could make a very bad song,

That only I would hear, listen to in the stillness of the moment,

The moments seem plenty now that the thief has done their deed,

Plenty, with not much difference as the questions sprout out of the dust,

Hopelessly hopeful questions that answer themselves in the asking,

But the meaning is ignored for I am never ready, not for this,

Not ever…

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