Poetry Writing

the lowercase collection—how it begins

i realized last night that i loved you the most.
i kept my glasses off in the dark to let the world
fade out and let that april snow fade in.
to feel every letter i wrote you for two years
return to my fingertips and glide me back
to these keys.

it’s the heartbreak of an 18 year old heart
felt in the chest of 26 year old regret
that stings and clutches to my ribs.
i never got to kiss you. i never told you.

this is the beginning of your poetry.
this is the beginning of the ache.


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