Whole

Wanting to be a separate entity.

Being one. Then still, having a piece of you

somewhere else. 

And not because it's needed.

Not because, it's necessary. 

Only because you want it nearer but 

it can't be.

A silk ribbon soiled by the rain, running

deep underground.

It isn't fair or good. 

Waiting long enough, wildflowers come.

But that piece of you is far away

in another dream. 

Wanting it, looking everywhere else for it.

"Want" is a phantom speaking.

The leaves have all turned grey.