I am kind of ok -
Which kind of ok am I?
To give and take the compliments. That’s ok
To not feel guilty about moving on. That’s ok
To dream about you from time to time.
I forget who you are.
I’m ok when I have to hold myself together until my first cup of coffee
I’m ok gathering myself in like precious linen so it doesn’t drag on the floor and walking with my head held high, and light, and very happy with myself, the secret excitement of a child.
I’m ok about when I look in the mirror and feel ambivalent about who looks back.
I’m ok with some pretending -
pretending to know
pretending not to
pretending – that I am not hiding, most of the time.
Let me tell you, I’m hiding.
I’m ok with not wanting to pretend that I don’t see you -
I see you.
I’m ok knowing you’d rather pretend I don’t.
I’m ok with the space it creates – a very thin and fragile space, in which those two things coexist.
I’m ok with that beauty.
It is fragile. That’s ok
It won’t last. That’s ok.
I can’t hold on to it. That’s ok.
I don’t know if I’ll be able to let go when the time comes. That’s ok.
I won’t have to, it’s just a sliver of light through the cracks
you and me, we happen at the angle where the dust is dancing
Just before the earth rotates a little more.
I’m ok with that reality,
it actually happened.
I’m ok with the privilege of waking up next to you.
Once or twice. On repeat.
I’m sorry I said it out loud. That’s ok.
Once in a while I like to see just how many Pringles
I can fit into my mouth.
I can be a bit obsessive. That’s ok
stashing my feelings
cramming them into poems like overfilled suitcases
like suspicious lettuce in a club sandwich
Like empty notebooks filled with stray sheets, scribbled on with various pens at inopportune times when I forgot
I’m ok with
another layer of peat on top of broken bones
Pack it up tight an hold your breath -
crumbs and fossils and diamonds
and lots, of time.