Rice Paper

Remembering the start.
I am a nostalgic piece of rice paper floating.
Can anyone aid me,
Eerie and transparent on the brisk, fog cradled air?
Perhaps this numbness is temporary
And a bird will pick me up and show me where to go from here.
Perhaps a strangers hand will give me a quick, sharp tear.
Even in my disorientation, maybe the stranger will
Regard me with pity, and tell which half of myself is correct.





I have been discarded.
He wants to take it back but I am hesitant.
My pain was irrelevant last night.
A half of me misses him and needs him.
A half of me can not forgive him.

I am so lost.
I am torn.