my window blinds

alright, i've thought, here's what i'm saying: one of the slats in my venetian blinds is missing.

cars drive by from outside, and their headlights fall through this opening and draw lines across my walls. slow dashes and flicks. like the waves of the ocean near my home. left to right and then gone. left to right and then gone. left to right and then..

within that particular suburban twilight, a seething sense of mystery and adventure whispered. a thrill, that i have never felt before, unfurled in my chest. a beguiling secret held in my hands. uncertain, trepid, exciting. but mostly, fearful of a belief that may

or may not be

what i think




but nevertheless, i shake my head, you see, that slat is not missing, it is creating. like, how the void in an empty glass births a potential unknown to one that is full. how an idea will always be so much greater than reality. how, a heart can fly to incredible heights and distances while the physical body cannot. how, the ability to find infinity within a tear in a piece of paper becomes so liberating, how, what is not there, becomes what matters the most, how, the empty space in a living room can leave a girl like me breathless, how,

how, despite my faithlessness in love, a romance through a myth as bold as this can leave a girl like me breathless.