shoebox | a poetry collection

- peculiarities

i wrote some letters
today, on my exam,
nonetheless.

do you believe it,
that i'm thinking
of you whilst reciting
bland history stripped
from the yellowing pages
of felt-lined books?

i'll tell you a
secret:
i'm always thinking
                                   of you.

it is to be noted,
too, that these were
no special letters, not
by inception.

these two were
written to be
forgotten, curving
scratches of worn-
down graphite.

instead, they did
— let me tell you,
my dear — the
most peculiar
of things.

they curled up
and around and
in to each other!

a flick of my
quavering hand and
suddenly reliance,
dependence was
born.

i write you
to tell you this
uninteresting story
turned something,
because i was reminded
of you, distracted from
yellowing, cracking
pages with far less
significance.

for in our own
eyes, we are two scratched,
scratching pieces of
graphite curled into
mismatching shapes
(though i assure you,
love, that you are much
more; and without me).

but by some means of
miraculous tremors, we
have curled together,
my darling, and
we shan't
slip apart.

- a. // 5.24.21