lucid • midnight poetry

almost

almost.

it's maybe the most infuriating word in the language—and yet maybe better than not-at-all?

there's nothing to it, really. a few inches, no more and certainly no less

she can feel the warmth, the promise of something more. it's within her reach. there is so little in her way, the thinnest strand between them (so easily broken!) and yet

she waits a beat too long. a breath out, when it should have been in. eyes tilted down, not up. and there it is—

the almost.

what could, so easily, have changed everything—but it didn't

and nothing is changed.

there was an almost living in that moment, and perhaps a not-at-all would have been better.

—midnight thoughts
©️2019