quietly compounded

Morning.
a soft reminder,
like a dissolving fingerprint,
of yesterday's desire for MORE.
The faded impressions
of the lives i may have lived
meekly tug
at the frayed hem of memory,
whining for discovery
of how they might
fit into the one i live now.
Layers like novels,
dusty from neglect and
stacked carelessly in a quiet corner
almost forgotten.