Don't Ask.

Need to stop, stop feeling this way, before it gnaws away a part of me, and I'll find myself losing another bit of me, again.

Not broken, yet not whole. Not falling apart, yet not intact.
Always almost there, but never really reaching.
Not here nor there; so cliched yet truth resonates.
It is but it is not. Something quite like it, but not really.
So many facades, so many layers, every bit Me, or maybe not.
So many faces, so many names, a tapestry of sorts.
So many hearts, a small dent in each, but never really owning.
Everything and nothing at the same time.


This is my purgatory.