After coming back from nowhere,

by Jill Chan

you notice some of what

you need―

a pressure of something

you've intended,

somewhere without

a place,

nothing short of destination

After going there,

you know preference

from selection,

somewhere from

something else

After arriving here,

you discount

everywhere from

buying and selling,

the sun is where you were,

the moon?

What's become of the moon

but the light

it never shines in your presence―

Like how he

takes turns

at solutions

while you scatter

them out

like you are

afraid of the dark―

darkness that could be yours

You are a piece

he threw farther and farther away

from your selfishness

Would he be that

and much more?

It seems this is the question

you ask to be alone