Who I Am

I climb into my car, extraordinarily clean for me, and glow with internal pride.
I tie my shoes and smile just because I know how to tie them and make them stay tied.
I dance and play and know that I am free.
I rock out to music as if I am the singer, guitar player AND the drummer all at once.
I say what I mean, with out apology.
I can pack my cigarettes pretty good, and I flip two luckies.
I am who I am.
I am who I like to be.
I am who I am, only I feel like I am losing little bits of me.
Like I put them down to deal with this or that and when I move on again, I don't realize until it's too late, but have left something.
Something so small I am not even sure what it is, but sure enough it's gone.
Lost, no, stolen. Trashed, burned ~ destroyed.
I want it to stop. I want her to come back and help me put everything the way I liked it. I hope she remembers where everything was, I hope that on her way home she stops all the places I did. I hope she looks around and sees the fragments of me. I hope she picks them up and keeps them in her pockets so that when she gets here she can use my nail glue and we can fix me again.
After all soul mates are the people who refill, give life, return what the world and other take from you over time. And one thing we saw eye to eye on was that our souls were OH SO VERY MUCH a part of each others.