PHANTOM LIMB

Haven’t seen the sun in days,
I feel the walls around me, closing in with haste,
been dodging my reflection for weeks.

Losing all sense of self,
as if I ever even had it always pleasing someone else.
What am I supposed to do without

without someone to tell me
if I’m wrong or right, or somewhere in between?
How am I failing to just be me?

I don’t know who I am.
Another living organism, chock-full of cynicism?
I don’t even have a plan to figure it out.

I don’t seem to know myself
quite as well as I had thought, or maybe not at all.
Suddenly, I’m off my axis again.

Now, I’m just floating in between who I was
yesterday, and now a puddle of ink and sad poetry.

If I don’t have you what do I have?
If you’re gone what do you leave behind?
You’re wrapped so tight around my heart,
my DNA, my every way.
I’m so lost without my phantom limb.

The hardest part of losing touch:
the fear of being noticed for wanting to be noticed.
I wish that I could let my guard down for once
and rest among the ones who love me the most.
But all I see are ghosts,
and I’ve half the strength I need.

If I don’t have you what do I have?
If you’re gone what do you leave behind?
You’re wrapped so tight around my heart,
my DNA, my every way.
I’m so lost without my phantom limb.