Today, I'm reminded—there aren't rules to this.
The thing in my chest, aching behind my eyes,
feels just solid enough to write about.
"I don’t want" is packed full
with things I crave,
or at least, everything I need.
The night is clear, the air crisp,
the moon spills silver leaflets all across the pond—
I know without looking. I can see it.
Something small is given there,
so— for now, I can rest a while longer.
