accidentally relevant poem about gratitude
when I am running: i think i am going to start a gratitude practice in this new journal i was given. I think of all the times I felt held, seen, cared for /// I have no desire to complete this task when I return home /// I like how this notebook looks sitting on my coffee table, what it implies— next to a book lent to me in earnest, my haphazard notes on yellow legal paper, a measuring tape I used in the unforgiving task of buying pants, a hard drive with all of my digital possessions held so delicately, a book of horrors, used napkins. hopes. dreams. I pretend I am the writer I wish to be. I check out books from the library, I write poetry. I drink coffee black and obscure my desires poorly. One of these two things i actually enjoy /// I am writing what I am grateful for on my heart. It does not make it to the page. I want to remain in that disconnect.