I wonder if I’ll tell my kids
about the lull in life,
that midway point in your twenties
where everyone around you is
falling in and out of love simultaneously
while you’re left there standing,

I’m not saying
it’s always romance:
the way you watch a girl curl inside herself
on a stairwell,
a human ball of yarn not ready to unfurl.
It’s the way you sit in a car with your friends not really listening, but watching the brake lights fade from the car parked in front of you,
end goal.

I wonder if my kids will know
about the nights you will go to bed
not feeling unfulfilled,
but wondering if you’re missing something.

I hope at 22 they won’t begrudge
going to bed at 9:41 like me;
I hope at 22 they’ll understand
their surroundings,
not be stuck writing poetry to make
sense of their reality,
to unpack their weeks of

I hope this “lull” phase
is something that only affects


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