3.

maybe.

it’s a small word.
two syllables, five letters.
but it holds so much
possibility.

not only hope, but
disappointment also.
it’s a word hinged on
futures.

if.

another small word
weighted
with possibility.

it’s the border words
letters that, when gathered
together, mean everything
and nothing
at the same time.

the almost promises.

they trick you into believing
that a possibility is a truth,
and when that path rises
from your grasp and
fades
into the vanishing winds of fate

these are the words you remember.
the ones that haunt you
and hold you to your
desperate attempts
at a life you know can be.

if you hold on to it tight enough.
and believe in it hard enough.
and become enough.

maybe.

Day 3 of 30 Poems in 30 Days.
So this is more depressing than I meant it to be, but you know how words and ideas just… become themselves. Ideas are as solid as turf,
and I mean that in the best way.

Check back tomorrow for another poem! Happy April, happy Easter, and subscribe below if you don’t trust yourself to remember to check back.