Untitled Poem #29

It started with the alphabet.
You said the way the letters arranged themselves
on the page were too much,
that the weight of each meaning together
cracked your ribcage right
You curled up into my breast
like a child,
holding onto my shoulders like I might
disappear if you let go
(not that you would have).
The stars overhead, always too many for the naked eye
to comprehend, spread out before us in
bright patterns.
(I didn’t need anything else).

But now that I’ve returned home,
the stars aren’t as bright,
and our vacation from reality kicked us
to the curb.
(but I still don’t need anything else).

This story has no comments.