poem

the continuation of the world becomes both beautiful and unbearable without ever saying so.

someone falls in love in a supermarket aisle.

someone is born. someone is forgiven.

someone is buying flowers for a person who has no idea what they are about to mean.

and somewhere,

perhaps only six miles from here,

you are laughing at something

i will never hear.

i don't want you back that's the part nobody understands.

i just wish the universe had been slightly less enormous when it decided we were finished.

because there are eight billion people and an unreasonable number of stars and oceans large enough to swallow every name i've ever known.

and still, some nights,

there is nowhere in all of it

i would rather be

than five minutes before

everything changed.