i don't know when it was
that I lost myself.
maybe it last year
or when I left home.
all I know now is
I can't write a poem without
throwing it in the trash,
crumpled and forgotten.
All my crochet projects are being left
unfinished,
hidden under the bed with old clothes and makeup
I don't feel pretty in anymore.

another day spent with the same routine,
wasted.
i put my empty coffee cup in the sink,
crawl under the covers,
and pray I wake up somewhere else.