United States
25° 53' 33.0756" N, 80° 20' 6.8496" W

It was and is and always will be about IT.

This big, bulging IT that just hangs there in people’s minds, spilling out of their mouths, ruling their words. 

They crave it, they look for it, they ask their friends to look for it, they hire people to look for it.

And with half-empty bottles of wine they talk about just how god damn hard IT is to find.

About how they thought they found it once. But that wasn’t it.


Because it shouldn’t have combusted in the kitchen, shouldn’t have turned into fiery insults thrown back and forth like the tile floor we picked out together was a playing field and hurting was a sport, shouldn’t have used itself and everyone else up and then when there were no more insults left to give, threw a plate against the wall in a desperate attempt to destroy just one more thing before it walked out the door.

That couldn’t have been IT.


Because IT is a Nicholas Sparks novel with a few holes in it but don’t worry because we watered it down *ahem* added torrential rain and formatted it to fit your TV screen.

It’s spilt milk cleaned up and poured into a glass, no a different glass. Put it in a bowl. Add flour, sugar…two heaping cups of charm, great hair, a woman who goes along and a man who could always be spending more time and money. 


And when the lights come back on…All I want is…everything. I want everything and I want you to know that no matter what, everything is never enough. I want my life to be a watered down Nicholas Sparks novel but not as many details and not so much talking and how about 



Well I hope that nothing fills you up the way two for a dollar giant cans of tea fill me up and falling asleep holding hands and long conversations about nothing and even the arguments because the whole way through I still know that it’s not over yet. Our lights don’t come back on after a couple of hours. They were already on this whole time. 

So while everyone is searching high and low for IT, I'm going to take THIS. This thing that's right here in front of me. It's not perfect but I don't need to follow the recipe exactly. I'll make a substitution here and add something there because all that really matters at the end of the day is that we made something together and we're happy because it's ours.


This poem is about: 
My family


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