my skin is peeling away
soon there’ll be nothing left of me
long long ago
there was light dancing on the windowsill
in the dim quiet of
eyes closed to the sun
it’s a lot harder to think
now
sometimes i see my hands and i wonder who i am
trick of the sunlight
fizzing apart
at the blue red edge of my shadow
today i saw children playing outside
spinning their umbrellas
casting
light across
the parched earth
and it hurt
it’s the feeling of forgetting the air
beyond your room
i just wish i had the grace
of motion without intention
of sunlight
and absence
Mar 24, 2021
Mar 24, 2021 at 7:50 AM UTC
my skin is peeling away
soon there’ll be nothing left of me
long long ago
there was light dancing on the windowsill
in the dim quiet of
eyes closed to the sun
it’s a lot harder to think
now
sometimes i see my hands and i wonder who i am
trick of the sunlight
fizzing apart
at the blue red edge of my shadow
today i saw children playing outside
spinning their umbrellas
casting
light across
the parched earth
and it hurt
it’s the feeling of forgetting the air
beyond your room
i just wish i had the grace
of motion without intention
of sunlight
and absence
every year sort of crumples and folds
and there’s only so much space
and no matter how much support i get
i feel like a disappointment
and i’m sure everyone is as tired of me
as i am
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