Distilled

I think life does this—

takes everything loud
everything unnecessary everything we swore
we could not live without

and boils us down.

Not gently.

Not kindly.

But honestly.

Until what remains
is small enough
to hold in one hand

and strong enough
to survive
being held.

I know I am a bit much.

I have accepted this
with less resistance
than I used to.

I feel everything.
I notice everything.

I love with an intensity
that leaves me depleted.

But if I were not me

who would I be?

I have searched my whole life
for a smaller version of myself.

She does not exist.

Maybe that is all I am now—

not less

just distilled.