When the Little Things Go

something so small so delicate so specific to one’s own idiosyncratic nature & it seems like a needle in a haystack found years ago keeping one’s psyche in check from the little café where that perfect cup of joe has been uncovered to that perfect bowl of ice cream one takes shelter in directly after a breakup--- from the infinitesimal to the grandiose in our heads they hold all the same sentimental value that thing which cannot be gained through other means & then like so much in the world it is gone one day without prior alarm without any residue sending one reeling as if we had no idea that such little things held us together in such a manner--- digging at the temples with the tips of all ten fingers screaming inside & on the outside as to not be taken away by the emotional whirlwind--- because if one cannot count on such itty bitty details of life, it all has to be thrown out & the nothingness devours without pity without rest until death do we part from it all finally.