The fidget, restless, ache
Starting to diffuse,
New tea from a lemon-wedge strainer
Rough, cheap sheets, earthy brown,
Tame, welcome
Hard bed, steady fan, gently blowing the blinds
Back, forth,
Reading a good book, eyes laze to, fro
Soft music, lavender sleep mask,
The dead heat, heavy air
It's not perfect. It's home

And the pain sets in,
That ache in my abdomen,
Soon as the rains come back
I should never have asked whether the sun would stay
This time

Be that *****
The one who strung em up like trysts
Little popcorn kernels in her gums
Be that *****
Who picked them as weeds
And kept the thorns in a back pocket
Be that *****
Who kissed them away as lipstick stains
On a broken mirror packed tightly away
Be that *****
Coddling a text message
As if it were a runaway child
Be that *****
On that summer’s eve
With miles of distance in one hand
Be that *****
Who broke her own **** heart
Trying to glue it back together again

I’m in the same way I am tired of speaking, tired of my written voice.
I’m by no means burnt out but I feel watered down, and I want to say it’s just my way of coming off an emotional haze.

Because I’m not the girl who burned hot and fast and bright and died out.
I’m just me. Lashing out and breaking down.

Scuba Diving, 60ft down
No sound, but the pressure in my ears
No feeling but the clammy pallor of my skin underneath this wetsuit,
No feeling but the ocean, dizzy and swayed by currents
Color diluted to greys and browns,
60ft down.