Black ring, car keys.
Wrapped around my right pinky
and it spins, spins, spins.
Is it perfect out in the world? No.
There's always more work to be
done. Is it perfect within? No. I,
however, do appreciate a crisp mind.
Maybe, with my outer world so
adamant and enamored with
not seeing me, this is the opportunity
opening up that no one else would
notice. My conversations, my
perspectives, my
past, my
peace--all falling through the
cracks and the crevices of a
fractured tear into a world existing
perfectly fine.
But of course. Of course I feel unsure.
YOU ARE READING
TO FAIL SO FLAWLESSLY
PoetryEDITS IN PROGRESS: A prose-poetry chapbook exploring themes of insecurity, doubt, lost fabrics, and what it means to fail so flawlessly.
