I woke up this morning and
I had been made blank.
The colour and texture of me erased.
Even the hollow and empty were gone,
and what I have been left with
is this quiet stillness

this seems fine

my life plays out, a vintage home movie in
the distance of my mind, in faded
colours, with muted dialog.
There is an echo of a laugh-track
that does not hold my interest.
I’m not sure if that’s important.

but it seems fine

like my guilt and want and need,
my desperation,
were ropes that bound my ankles
that wrapped around my neck
and I have been cut loose.
to drift away in this quiet stillness

and this seems fine.