Losing Pieces

Losing Pieces

Humans are equal, each one’s worth greater than gold. 

Everyone is welcome, and all belong, no matter the place.

Or so we’re told;

But are these really words that we embrace?

It’ll take a while, but I’ll learn the pieces of you.

And place each in my mind, where it fits, next to the others.

“What’s your favorite ___?” you asked me once.

I smiled, “What’s yours?”

Your answer slips out before mine, and so I say the same.

Am I agreeing, or just borrowing a piece of you?

We’re told not to, but our minds will still categorize.

Yet there’s one thing I still struggle to see:

Though knowing them my entire life, I have yet to know where to place

The pieces that make up me.

I can tell you the color of the skin that holds me together;

The length of my hair, The pants I wear, earrings I choose.

I could even tell you the brand of shoes I have.

But here’s where it gets foggy:

I hold a pen and wield a knife with my left,

And use my right hand for everything that’s left.

Preferences thicken the fog. Everyone’s supposed to have them, but why don’t I?

Late nights or early mornings? Cats or dogs?

I think I’ll choose staying home over staying with friends,

But it really depends - on who asks, and when.

You’ll usually hear my answer only after I hear yours,

And mine will likely match your own.

“Why can’t you just choose?” they ask. 

I can only shrug.

Sometimes, it’s easier this way: to cut pieces to fit with the others.

Every time I cut a curve or smooth a side, I lose a little more.

But how else can it fit? How else can I fit?

Some questions I’ll never be able to answer, no matter who speaks first:

Am I kind, smart, fun? Am I lazy, rude, boring?

We can’t put people in boxes, but still, we try-

Either in treasure boxes or cardboard ones.

Everyone belongs somewhere, fitting in their own puzzles.

If you asked, “Do I belong?” It would be another question I can answer.

I’d say “Yes, of course you do.”

If I asked myself, “Do I belong?” It would be another question I can’t answer.

I’d say, “I don’t know.”

I’ll learn a song for a friend and show a trick if it makes them smile.

I’ll do the homework to look busy, and study to look smart.

You can forcefully tune a cello’s strings to a viola’s or to a double bass;

But it could wear out the strings. They could even slip. Or worse, snap.

But I’d still do it. I’ve done it.

To those I’ve considered my best friends: Did you ever consider me as your best?

To the ones I’ve called friends: Have you ever considered me as one?

If so, would you let me know:

Where does this piece of mine belong among the puzzles in your mind?

Would you tell me where I fit, in your mind - in your heart?

Because without that, I’ll never know if this piece of mine even belongs within you.

I’ll always focus on the “if not” instead of looking at the “if so.”

“Wow we have so much in common!” someone exclaims.

“You always choose what I choose,” someone notices.

They’re not coincidences. How else would I belong?

How much does it take, to think of others who’ve been around?

To ask a question or share a chat with someone?

To wait a few minutes for someone? To let them know?

It doesn’t take much to brighten a day - to help someone up;

And it doesn’t take much to do the opposite.

It’s too easy to throw away the pieces or forget where they go.

But without them, you’ll never finish the puzzle or hear their same melody again.

So in hopes that no one will ever need to ask again, or worry about the answer,

I’ll ask you once more: “Do I belong?”