This is the fourth installment of a ten part poetry/prose series I wrote a few months ago titled Hours. I wrote the series over the course of one night into the next morning as a project. Each individual part is titled according to the time at which I began writing the piece and makes for a kind of documentation of my thought process throughout the night. And after much editing, here it is.
How strange love is to not know what you want until you find it, until it’s staring you in the face. And even then, you may not recognize it.