i've realised how much everyone's happiness depends on other people.
and perhaps i'm far to young to know better,
but my impression is that you cannot be whole without another.
although you are born whole, innocent, a virgin soul-
throughout life, you'll leave parts of yourself behind
in places, people, things.
what is left of one when all is said and done?
how much of oneself does one give away with every separation, every loss, every accomplishment?
although you might think to yourself
i'm fine.
i've got a home, a job, i've got my poetry.
a little part of you will always, always be missing.
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