There's not enough of me.
There isn't enough left.
I gave too many pieces away.
I didn't think that I'd need some for myself.
I wanted to help.
I wanted to make you happy.
I wanted to fill your holes.
So I reached into myself.
I reached in and I scooped out the parts I thought you would like.
The song lyrics.
The recipes.
The favorite episodes of favorite television shows.
The photos of the favorite parts of my body.
The smiles.
The quotes.
The parts of myself that I loved.
That I thought you would love.
That I thought I would always have access to, because you would be there.
But you are not here.
And there's not enough of me left now.
Because you weren't the first.
But there isn't enough of me.
There's not enough of me to go around.
I am not a bowl of macaroni at a cook out.
I should not have let so many take plates to go.
Because there's not enough of me left to go around.
There's not enough of me left for me.