I remember when I was more
Than just heartbreak and love poems,
When I was deeper than what man made me feel;
I remember when man did not control
My every emotion
I can recall when I was more than loss,
When death did not faze me,
When it was most intriguing;
It did not scare me,
It surely did not make me cry
I remember when I was more than loneliness
More than a dying emptiness,
More than the hours spent in silence,
When I was just enough;
When I was just right
What happened to the girl of substance?
The woman of forethought?
The artist who pined over beauty,
The lost soul who loved to wander?
I simply remember when I was more!
©2014 – V. A. Coote