I found you
In a puddle of
Spilled coffee
White with milk.

I found you
In the pages
Of a notebook
Over silent words.

I found you
At the bottom
Of my pocket
Alone and small.


I found you
In the music
That blares closely
At my ears.

I found you
In the code red
Induced fog of
Three AM poetry.

I found you
In the swaying
Of the trees as
Summer makes fall.

I found you
On a rock at
The bottom of
A green slide.

I found you
On the sidewalk
Blown around
By September winds.

I found you
As I always
do in the
oddest ways.

Small white lines of indented flesh,
They spell out the words I heard
And could never speak of
Memories I refuse to reimagine
Not in my wildest dreams
Bringing me back to this moment
Contemplating the very edge
Of existence, over and over
Never daring to step past
Too scared of what lies
Just beyond these white lines.