Optimism

What if tomorrow sucks?

I’ve already had worse days.

What if they don’t want me?

I’ve moved on before.

What if…?

No. What if.

Benched

The bench spoke to me. 
I waited so long: 
the daily walks,
the nervous glances,
 - hoping. 
I made excuses, 
now thinking about it, 
to walk by. 
Deluding myself to believe.

No,

I do like walking.

I do like that bench.
 
Around and around
that gnarly,
blood-footed path.

And then
sat, 

“please leave“ it requested. 
An underwhelming introduction, 
but 
chills and flutters
still. 
I walk on.

Parasite Obsolete

A novelty, 
she turns each page
with as much emotion as she reads. 
Petals pressed, feathers caught, 
stories from the back of the book;
pages no one else sees.
A leak in performance
held by drying wrinkles. 
I stared at each word so long,
clinging for dear life
to everything she whispered,
the slow march of typeface
across skin. 
Dangling by fear and craving
off the sidewalk’s end.