socks

A pile of hopes, socks just out of the dryer,
top a new year. That is fine, but everyone
wants you to be careful to match the socks.

I am not careful. I am tired of being careful.
I throw love at you, and it could hit you in the face.
It is tiring to be loved haphazardly, I know.

Someone will tell you things about your past,
about how you should feel about your past,
or about how to match the socks.

All I say is shapes and colors matter little.
Some of them have gone missing anyway.
Love with force. Match or don’t match. Just catch.

– Halsted M. Bernard

About Halsted M. Bernard

Halsted, a/k/a cygnoir, does stuff with words. Her favourite things to do with words are keeping this diary, writing stories, and organising information. She lives in Edinburgh with her husband, two cats, a few gadgets, several fountain pens, and many books.

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