Poetry and Prose

The Thief

It’s true, it was a piece of my soul
You stole.
I hate to use the word, stole.
It’s accusatory, I know.
You made an offer,
And I said, “Sold.”
With this exchange for promise,
A bargain to be true and honest.
I can’t help but feel
One of us got the wrong deal.

See, I dived in to
And through an ocean
Belief, faith, trust,
There’s been a change in me
After wading that sea.
I’ve been on a journey
Of self-reflection and being.
Since you took that piece,
That fragment of me;
Yes, it left a hole
But I created a whole, me.

You’ll never see
How you were the second best thing
To happen to me
Making me believe.
The first being, leaving.
So yes, it’s true,
It was a piece of my soul
You stole
But you don’t get to see
The part I made whole.

-D.A. Baker


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