i'm sitting on windowsills like they did
and now i'm in the same trap
a small room of a universe/
purple fairy lights and the warm glow,
i'm ready to go home to the sky.
a soft death and bad habits to kick
from touching myself to recreate physical touch I don't receive to
crying over the friends in my head and
writing daisy petal eulogies on a deathless flowerbed.
sleeping on them like they're still living.
I'm alone and it's the same as death=
just let me die.