I am not whole
I am broken

I am not the reflection of light off of a dying cell phone
I am the shadow of curtains on the carpet outside the kitchen

I am not the green shag carpet at the crazy aunt’s house
I am the brown carpet in the main hall that used to be tan

I am not the crystal goblet in the cupboard on top of the fridge
I am the coffee stained mug next to the sink

But

I am not the pile of dirt on the side of the house
I am the tulips that bloom there for no apparent reason

I am not the broken glass on the floor after a fight
I am the apologetic hug of the next day

I am not the forgotten keys upon the table
I am the beloved mango juice in the fridge

I am not the barking dog jumping at the fence
I am the cat resting upon it with a look of sharp disdain

I am not the unfinished homework in the backpack with a broken zipper
I am the novel on the shelf with its brand new binding

I am not broken
I am healed