your phone is ringing in your bedroom,
you're too busy in the kitchen talking about another life,
talking about the future
like you're so sure about it.
your vocabulary only has "am",
i see your chest puff out with so much certainty.
i grew up wondering how you did it,
i always wondered what your secret was to making everything okay even when it really, really wasn't okay.
i grew up hoping, wishing, praying that it was genetic,
i wanted to make everything okay too.
but it wasn't,
it wasn't in my bones or my veins or woven into my existence.