Place (an acrostic poem)

Putting things away, be they trinkets, memories, or even people

Leaves me feeling complete, and yet filled with an uneasy energy

As if the more compact I make my life, the more space I have to get lost in

Could it be clutter is the equivalent of comfort

Even to the point of not knowing where I am anymore?

 

Image: upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/9c/You_are_here.jpg

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