This year has taught me
How to find love
In the spaces between fingers,
In the shadows across faces,
In heated cars,
And in cool sheets.

This year has taught me
How to let love go.
When my second love
Kissed another.
When my almost love
Fled the state.

This year has taught me
How to love myself.
To cherish my laughter lines,
And each bite of food.
To soak in hot water,
And splurge every so often.

This year has taught me
How to hope.
Dickinson reminded me
That “’hope’ is a thing with feathers”.
My middle name is Hope.
Therefore, I will hope once more.

This year has taught me
That much does not last.
Shoulders to lean on are not constant.
Mortal forevers are
Just that:
Mortal.