The morning spills into my room
and it’s loud, loud with things
all over the place.
A pile of washed clothes
stares at me from the chair
in the corner, judging
the quiet in my hands.
A cup of water on
my nightstand begging me
to drink it and
the sheets are still twisted
around my legs. I hate that.
I breathe out. I close my eyes.
Starting a new day is a task
and to be honest,
sometimes I need the courage.
I’m not ready.
My underwear feels
tight around my thighs,
so stupidly tight.
A small reminder
that my body is betraying me.
I adjust myself
to feel more comfortable.
Isn’t it humorous?
How we hold the shame
of other people?
How we wear it
as if we were spies
slipping into a new disguise.
I dig my nail
into the palm of my hand.
Anything to not think of that.
My thoughts move forward,
now it’s you.
Only for a quick second,
can’t linger,
can’t think of you,
not now.
You’re still able
to crush my reality
with the faintest passing
of a thought.
If only I could join you
there in my mind.
We could pick flowers
from each other’s teeth
and turn them into secret gardens,
meant only for us.
We could run around cities
of lonely people and forgotten dreams.
We could smile and mean it.
We could, but I can’t think of that.
Not now, not when I am a forest fire
taking everything with me.
You don’t deserve that.
I climb out of the tangled sheets
and let the air tickle my thigh.
A new day to start.
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