a thin sheet of ice
on a windshield
beach glass green
in the morning light

a frosted vase
in milky seafoam
red roses proudly
piled upwards

windows
you can’t see out of
and doors
that won’t lock tight

eyes that see
everything
and a haze over
my mind’s eye that
prevents any of it
from registering

reality reduced to
coffee and bread
aches in feet and
crumpled tissue paper promises
to be kind to myself
to not be so sad
so needy
so weak
so tired
so fogged

this part of my life
(the current present that has
continued on for years)
is the purgatory between
the past
and the future
so i spend my days
banging on the glass and
screaming for purpose
and nights letting slippery
tears freeze over
and crystallize on my pillow

if i could fix myself
don’t you know i
would have by now?

if i could make up
my mind do you think
i would still be here?

hurt me
please
but please don’t
tell me i can do this

if i could do this don’t you
think i would have?