Navel Gazing (Literally)

Pulling up my jeans, the fabric tight against the skin.

I catch a glimpse, a small, dark hollow, deep within.

My belly button. Just a thing, a little scar,

where once I was connected, from what seems so far.

Now, only lint. A tiny piece of fluff, stuck tight

inside that shadowed dip. I scoop it, in the dim light

of morning. A scratch near it, barely healed and thin.

It's me, just me, again. Where does my story begin

and end? The sheets beside me, rumpled, tell no tale.

Just this small hole. A human thing, perfectly frail.