all in order

There have been long nights lying awake
moonlight casting unfamiliar shadows
while thoughts strain toward the future
and what will be, what might be, what can't ever be.

When I write the story of my life,
she thinks, staring at the ceiling
until her eyes adjust to the darkness and
she is staring at nothing at all...

When I write the story of my life
there will be no spelling errors,
no grammatical mistakes, no missing punctuation.
Everything will be in its place.

But will there be a story to tell?

There have been quiet moments alone
sunlight playing across unfamiliar faces
while her eyes stayed riveted on the floor
and she thinks, she wants, she needs.

When I write the story of my life,
she thinks, fiddling with the hem of her shirt
until it is wrinkled beyond repair
and she has no hope of smoothing the lines...

When I write the story of my life
the chapters will be labeled and titled,
there will be page numbers
and everything will add up.

Oh, how I hope there will be a story to tell.