Poetry, Prosetry

superfluous. – Brooke Safferman

I gave you a nickname but you didn’t give me one (yet)
I can picture you fingers, tender but unfaltering, plucking the strings on a blue guitar
You always had a knack for adopting things out of the ordinary,
Myself included.

I never found my place of belonging in this world
Until you showed me how I was wrong about home
Home can be a person, not a place.

Let’s circle back:
A meeting of chance,
Two broken hearts:
one fractured from infidelity but still pressing down on the gas,
the other from an Illusion of the Ideal
The latter was my own, yet you told me how I was always so
Grounded in Reality.

Your eyes were depthless, a safety net of compassion
That I never knew how to provide for myself.
You taught me what it means to trust
In the universe
In the truth
In another human
I would thank you for it all but you would call it superfluous.

The way each and every day
Brings us closer together
(And you love it)
Is hopelessly optimistic.
We are a paradox by nature
Because she found you first.

Hey! I found a nickname.
You can call me superfluous.


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