Fossils and Diamonds

I am kind of ok -
kind of

Which kind of ok am I?

I forget
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 high off the floor and walking light headed towards my day with the secret excitement of a child.

I’m ok about when I look in the mirror and feel ambivalent about who looks back.
Those days.

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.
That’s ok.

I’m ok with not wanting to pretend that I don’t see you -
I see you.
That’s ok.

I’m ok knowing you’d rather pretend I don’t.
That’s ok.

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 visible
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
the edges of frilly lettuce spilling out of a sandwich like lace,
All of my notebooks packed with stray sheets, torn edges, scribbled on with various pens at inopportune times when I forgot
My notebook.

I’m ok with
another layer of peat on top of broken bones
Pack it up nice ‘n tight now hold your breath -
crumbs and fossils and diamonds -
and lots, of time.

That’s ok.