(Just so there is no confusion, this poem is a rank out and complete mockery of anyone who thinks that they can get through life without ever facing themselves; you know who you are.)
it sounds like a thing you could lose...
you would look for it under the couch
and say "where's the loss?
I can't find it...
I know it's around here somewhere.
I just saw it a few weeks ago."
then, you might find it
it might look like - beauty
or love
or friendship
or an old sock full of lint and dust
and you would say "ah, here it is",
checking it over for any damage,
feeling a little indifferent to it
or maybe you would be
happy,
joyful even
that you found the loss;
and you can put it away now, in its proper place.
