i don’t know how
people
do it.
write poetry about the big things
falling in love
feeling betrayed
birth
rape
death

i’ve tried and i always feel
i’m missing a piece of the puzzle
like my particular words
cheapen
my majestic moments.

but i’m more than happy
to write odes
to sour patch kids
express a love for
one particular flower
paint a poetic portrait
over the act of writing poetry
i thrive on the little things

(but do people actually want to read poems
about how my morning was?)