by bcmiller2014

Together

Somehow being with someone
else makes it better, all the 
major and minor tragedies
of every day. She knew this 
was true as a human, because
even though her dad would’ve
been no good in a fight, she’d 
felt safer at night when he was
home. Anyone who’d intended
to kill them would’ve succeeded. 
No matter. Being alone is
worse. Unless it is better. 
Unless the other person is
the person breaking in, with a
knife, and a mouthful of 
slicing in it. Except for 
that. But mostly, a connection,
an exchanged smile, a kind
eye, someone who doesn’t mind
the idea of saving just about
anything from pain, makes
the world better and 
inexplicably safer, even when
nothing has changed. 

3 Comments

  1. Unknown's avatar

    You keep challenging my ability to express again and again the beauty and sospricussity (no, it’s not a word yet, but you know what I mean) of your poetry. Each time, I want to just say again and again “Beth, this is so great! So great!” but it might end up sounding like I’m cutting and pasting, just to encourage you, and I’m NOT! I don’t MIND if it encourages you, but I’m not saying this for that reason. I’m saying it because it’s what jumps out of me when I read your poetry. Because again and again it is just so…so…sospricussive!!!!

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