Less than four.

There's not much left you can say when you're soul is no longer whole. You can find esoteric words to use, but none of them hold meaning or can come close to accurately defining the depths of you.

Some people are drawn to brilliance and will chase it endlessly; like a naive moth fluttering around life's porch light in a futile attempt to catch... something. Who knows? Its own agenda.

Other people respond to bitterness, and will only react to the negative in life. They crave friction. The good things may be cautiously accepted, but it's the dark that truly stirs their mental tanks. And then they wonder why it keeps reoccurring, never realizing that just by reacting to the negative, it positively reinforces the cycle.

I'm broken. But, like a boulder that's been obliterated by dynamite, I still exist, even if half of me has disappeared into dust. The rest of me resides in little pieces - never to be whole again - for everyone who knows me to pick up their own special fragment of what I mean to them. No one I know in my life has ever seen me whole, but everyone's got a piece of me in their pocket to keep. They freely take it with them via memories, and I freely let them have it.

But not you...

I wanted you to see me put together again. I wanted to be whole with you. To be something - someone - you could lean on. To give you shade during those especially tough days. To protect you when you needed someone to hide behind. To stand on when you wanted a better view of the world. And to always be there when you needed me, and you would always know where to look and find me.

But you just stood and lit another fuse.

And walked away.

-HKR