i reach a point of ******
and i never realized how sad it was
i never realized that i was actually
crying this whole time.
hidden beneath covers
friends in rooms miles away from mine
we’re all living our lives and making mistakes
but we haven’t been awake for a while now
i’m afraid.
there’s something about the muted twinkle
that brings me back to the soft lights
and the coffee and the microphone
and that first poem that
proved i belonged in a space of melancholy
because being broken is about more
than being an artist nowadays
i usually want to jump inside the paintings
but this one makes me
want to jump out.