(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 
joyful even

that you found the loss;
and you can put it away now, in its proper place.