Late Night Palm Reading

There’s a speck on my eye. I can only see it when I look away. Away from it. Away from direct light.

I know it’s there. Hindering. Distracting. I know it’s there. Reminding me, small things matter. Small things are large things. Small things.

The night sky, I see it. Only when I look away. The galaxies. The planets. The distanced anomalies to my own one-in-a-million existence.

Small things.

Key yet so insignificant. Key yet so insurmountable.

What’s trapped in my vision can be so symbolic. Symbolic to what’s to come. Symbolic to what I have to move away from.

It’s all left up to interpretation. Even still, it’s messages hold value. However I translate.

Speck in my eye. Horoscope. Distanced galaxies. Fortune.

As I lay awake

The moment I dislike being single the most: laying in bed, forcing sleep, listening to the rainfall.

I miss feeling someone next to me. Their warmth, their security. Most of all the vulnerability. How pure and innocent they look when the day is gone and all that’s left are hopeful thoughts of tomorrow.  The worries aren’t hanging on their face anymore.

The sleep sighs and small “dreamy” sounds. Roll-overs that bring them closer to you. Squeezes in the middle of the night.


My favorite moments with you were when we slept. It was there I felt it when you loved me the most and there I felt it when it was all over.