“While we haunt ourselves, we become part of others. With all our broken pieces, we are gathered in mosaics— reflecting every careless smile, echoing every careless word. We become them eventually, in the way we live and survive each night. Ghosts, bohemian wallpapers, and shiny crystal whiskey glasses, used by them—hauntingly beautiful, collected, and far behind. And after all this, nothing of ourselves remains.” PoetryLove And LossEmotional DepthBroken PiecesExistential PoetryPersonal TragedyTragic LoveWriting About LifePoetic ReflectionHaunting Memories Author:Laura Chouette