You asked me, “How are you?”
statement more than a question.
and for once I really told you
I told you that I ache every day for something that I cannot name
and even with my vocabulary, I can’t find the words for it.
That I sleep too much or sleep too little.
That sometimes, I am happy.
Sometimes, not so much.
That I am plagued by nostalgia and summer rains that have long since dried up, leaving the earth cracked and dry and
That every time I fall out of love with someone else,
I fall a little more in love with myself and I am learning
why they write poems about solitude.
You asked me “How are you?”
and I shrugged my shoulders and said