the small things

The Small Things

There’s a silver ring on my thumb, which makes
the hand far more attractive, a yellow
ring in my blue eye, which turns it
to green. Spilled coffee on my comforter,
I wake to its aroma without putting on a

pot enters my lungs through the cracks
of my neighbor’s door.
A sweet reminder that I’m home, where I
write on the small things worth
writing, with each ending also a

beginning on Monday I looked up at this polluted sky,
where I saw a moon neither waning
nor waxing, an imperfect circle
so stagnant and incredible: the moon and you

are 3 billion miles away,
and I miss some things, like
tugging on your shoulders and
a dizzying physical devotion
bound to fall through

cracks in my knees remind me
of my legs and where they’ve taken me.
I ran five miles on a treadmill and
went absolutely nowhere. But I’m still going

places are filled with people that are so afraid of death.
And I don’t know what happens after we die—
I’m asking around but once I’m gone I can no longer

listen, the difference between you and me is
this morning I stepped on glass and
smiled, since that’s the worst that can happen.

About Laura

marketing director at Possible. formerly at Greatist. Still running, finding zen, and searching for the perfect bloody mary.

Posted on November 9, 2011, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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