I am cleaved in two,
broken images
of what used to be me.
I wrestle with voices
of foggy past
and war with those
of the present.
The dichotomy
bits of me
into the ether
where I cannot reach
the me who once was.
The struggle of love,
the strife of a halved heart, overshadows the choice
between wrong and right,
of what’s wanted
and what’s needed.
Is it greed to blame
for the longing
of the past?
Is avarice
our only choice
to remain free
from bonds
of unknown clarity?
Clinging to ancient sentiments
makes me selfish
and ridden with desire
and confusion of what it means
to be two separate pieces
of a person
who loves one
but can’t let go
of the other.


3 thoughts on “Halved

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