Poetry · Portfolio


When I feel,

It seems wrong.

The puzzle pieces do not match.

The nightmares don’t quite catch.

The butterflies just fly through the net.

I am constantly late for that sunset.

Everything is just a second too late,

subtle as a ladybug on a mountain,

yet loud enough like thunder.

It’s stopping at orange,


on an uneven number.

Watching a countdown

and missing the one.

We continue to live

but it’s a bit crooked,

a bit askew,

but we go on,

and on.