Some-thing

I am at the cusp of 
figuring out how I feel
these tears near the edge
of something and I wonder
will I investigate their origin
or coat this heart with platitudes,
an untrustworthy balm that never
does the job of making anyone
feel better even here in the corner
of the bagel shop where despite
AirPods pressed to my ears 
I can’t help
but hear 
the teenagers come to
order sandwiches for lunch and
my emotions, a delicate palette of
angst and peace spitfire ideas–
you are fine, no, you are worried,
no, scared, no, just melancholy and
that is okay, you know, you know
you are okay and
the tears fall on the pages then
this kindness of listening
to loneliness implore
again and again, 
hear me.