less than i should,
i keep these foamy
fog-soaked memories
on hold-
pleading with the gods
"no yelling, not tonight"
and the rain relents

i feel a little safer
with just a few clouds
the stability is warm
unlike my hands,
and the majority of my heart
but i'm still here-
right?

or am i just pretending,
sometimes i do bleed
just to check if i am still alive.
sometimes i don't want to breathe-
that's okay too;
i'm on my journey
i'll find my way