lost
it is gone.
unable to be found
beneath desks, in pockets, or purses or bags.
is it my fault?
or did the universe lift it from my grasp
with tendrils of glee?
i cannot find it anywhere.
no matter the hours spent-
wasted(?)
it is gone.
and perhaps i look to the galaxies
to find fault
because i don’t want to face the reality
that i lost it
and it is unable to be found.
What I love most about this poem is how it never identifies what is lost, which in turn allows the reader to apply it to their experiences.