it's one in the morning
and i have so many emotions
swelling in the space between
my lungs

the space where
i imagine my soul
resides

i don't know
why, but i feel
i know
that my soul is a tangible
expanding, moving
thing
trapped in my ribcage
my fragile bones are
a birdcage for
the paper bird that is my soul

it really does feel
like it can fly
sometimes,
like now
the darkest hour of the night
or when
i let certain songs
permeate my skin
and sink into my bones

my soul is an *****
visceral, necessary
for my very survival.
a comforting weight
in the space between my lungs
when i lose my grip
or my breath
i can feel it, always there
it grounds me.