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matt,ers of a nothing-something.
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matt,ers of a nothing-something.
he gave her something, but it felt a lot like nothing. so
she tried to ask him something, and he said nothing.
so she tried to tell herself it’s nothing, but the more she did
the more it still felt like something,
more than nothing.
their eyes met, definitely something to all the nothing.
her eyes wet, but there was nothing for her to hold, nothing.
because every time he gave her something,
he followed it up with days of nothing,
he never meant to leave her wondering,
but never could tell, himself:
nothing, from something.
something, from nothing.
and so the more she wanted something
the more he gave her nothing,
which left her eyes averted,
still searching for that special something…
but no matter what she saw–
she only wanted one thing.
and it was him. and his something-
nothing-lovething.
so she’d tell the would-be something
that she had this nothing-something,
going on. fumbling. for the words to explain
something complicated as nothing.
because whenever she thought about it,
it still felt like something,
more than nothing.
ROSE DEMENT