Poetry, a gift lost in the wind.
Every once in awhile I catch it
scrambling to write something, anything, to express what’s happening.

Poetry, picking it up intermittently is hard.
I can’t just make awkward small talk
such as “Hey, I like your hair!”, or
“I really hope you’re doing well!”

Poetry, an unbreakable connection,
Every once and awhile I write
not often enough to understand fully
but often enough to remain complete.

maybe
what we long for
is not to die
but instead
to vanish