Pieces of Me
by Nicky Shanks
But it doesn’t feel like me.
I can’t explain it. I just…feel it.
All I have left of a past I can’t remember are headaches and dreams of someone else’s life.
Everything they tell me makes no sense. It’s all lies. It has to be. Why else does it feel like there’s this hole inside me, like I’m missing pieces of myself? Like I’m broken?
But then there’s him. The man with the tattoos—the only person who doesn’t think I’m crazy.
For some reason I’m drawn to him. I have this profound need to be close to him, like he has all the answers. And maybe he does. Maybe all the missing pieces I’m searching for are right there inked on his skin. Maybe my story is there, hidden behind the black ink engraved into his flesh.
But then again…maybe I’m crazy.
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