I lost and found myself that day,
when the world came crashing down.
A time planned for happier endeavours.

It was as if my fate caught up to me like a fever on the coldest of nights and I was left stranded,
bobbing in a sea of uncertainty,
lost in a world familiar,
but unattached to any aesthetic.

My bed became a life boat,
and the floor was riddled with sharks and broken glass,
walls whispered me back to the the darkest corners of my mind and I tried to get out of bed I promise.  

The curtains were pulled on my ruin for days
and I lingered in the kind of sadness you feel you will never recover from.


Now
I sit in the earth
amongst the lungs of the world,  thinking of how we became degenerate beauty queens.
Constantly reverting back to how we moulded our antics from the atmosphere and dirt.
Recovering from watching you brim with adolescence in the city,
marvelling at the women we have become.

Because these are the good old times.

the lightness of living in a world revolving too near a black hole.

learning to live
again.