i suppose it’s time


to write a poem
about leaves falling
fluttering fragments
of the sky

but instead
i’m thinking about
what to write
on your parents’ sympathy card
choosing words to
express how blessed i feel to have met
and how badly i feel this world’s been fucking
and i’m
trying not
to offend their grief,
oceanic and black as india ink,
by claiming to possess even
an ounce.

i suppose it’s time

but instead
i’m keeping my eyes open
until i fall asleep
because i know
in darkness i’ll think of you
and then cry

(i’d like to understand this world
as temporary, a lightning strike–
but it’s so fucking hard to see eternity
with these weak eyes.)

4 thoughts on “i suppose it’s time

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