Note to Myself

When you have lowered
your expectations
lower them again.
Let them ride on the bottom
of your boots—
Expect nothing in return
or in exchange
or in favor
of happiness,
which seems abundant
only in the woods—
where you had a lovely exchange
with a man
admiring the wildflowers
on the riverbank.
Forget about his smile
and the way he wrapped his arm
around a Sugar Maple
as he spoke to you.
You will never know
how it feels to have his arms
wrapped around your body
like that—
and you need to stop
returning to that tree
hoping to find him there—
pretending you are
sturdy enough
to lean into, to need—
to love.



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