Writers 
Things I Carried Around With Me
I carried your chuckle in my left pocket.
It rustled there like paper money,
small and edge-worn as a result of my frequent use
to determine whether it was still true.
It gave me ten more minutes to breathe on bad days.
I didn't have to spend it on good days,
but I liked knowing it was there,
folded and warm against my keys.
In the right pocket, I kept the weather.
Storms, not merely the typical variety.
Tuesday rain drew maps on the bus window that I couldn't read.
Heat that made the tar soft under my shoes.
The way that cold weighs you down at six in the morning
when you’re walking to somewhere that matters
and you exhale little specks of dust.
So that I wouldn't forget, I carried it.
that the world is still going on despite my silence.
that additional individuals are also waiting, sweating, and shivering.
The back pocket held all the unsent things.
“Are you okay?” followed by silence.
"I miss you" was changed to "hope you're well."
"I'm proud of you," which I've never said publicly.
because I was afraid it would be too loud, too open,
like a bridge I wasn't ready to cross.
They folded themselves smaller and smaller
until they fit between loose change and receipts.
and the lint that builds up from living a life.
I would occasionally reach in and feel them at night,
simultaneously soft and abrasive.
In the inside pocket of my jacket, I kept time.
close enough to my heart to prevent theft.
Birthdays.
Deadlines.
The three minutes
between when you send a message and when you see "read."
The year that flew by.
The month that remained stationary.
I thought, so I kept counting.
Nothing would fall through the cracks if I kept accurate count.
I dumped everything onto the table today.
The laugh is still there.
A little faded, but warm.
My palms are covered in salt because the weather has dried out.
The unseen events took place.
and proved to be standard sentences.
Even when I wasn't looking, the clock continued to tick by.
I don’t need to carry it all anymore.
Some things are safer left out in the air.
As a result, I put my hands in my pockets.
and moved about.
Additionally, the pockets no longer felt heavy for the first time.
They resembled rooms.
Like space for new things.
Like authorization.
