Story 16 | At All
My one and only poem: a protagonist contrasts the loss of two loved ones in his life.
When waiting for the bus in elementary school, I used to write poetry in a pink, floral journal. I so wish I could find that book today - I bet it would be hilarious, or maybe sweet. I had no material with which to work, and I remember I adhered very closely rudimentary rhyming. What a time capsule it would be.
I’ve since learned that my sense of rhythm is non-existent. Poetry has felt too strict for me to pursue as an art form; it runs against so many of my sensibilities. Maybe that’s something to work on, though it’s not high on my list of priorities.
All that said, one night years ago, inspired, I wrote this poem in one fell swoop, on one piece of paper, in pen, no edits.
I love it. I hope you will as well.
At All
I don't feel her missing from my life.
Her time had come, for her to naturally go.
But you.
This hole lingers. I walk around it everyday. Sometimes it trips me up. Sometimes I fall in.
I'm not sure you were meant to go.
Not so soon.
She watches me from the heavens.
And I wonder if you think of me at all.
I miss running through the night, all in the mud, all through the streets. Moonlight + headlights.
I run all the time now and I get nowhere at all.
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Next Week’s Plot Twist…
I’m not sure yet!! I have a couple ideas and haven’t chosen between them. Or even written them, to be honest… Going to be interesting!
Last week’s story:
Last week was a strange, tough week. Understandably, this story didn’t get as much love as it normally might. I always link the previous week’s story, but perhaps because today’s poem is short, you might have time to go back to this one as well.
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