the kitchen is a museum of heavy things today.
the oranges sit in the ceramic bowl,
glowing like small, stubborn suns,
but the skin feels like a brick wall.
to peel it is an argument i’m too tired to win;
the thought of the juice on your fingers
feels like a mess you’ll have to apologize for later.
and your chest is in that familiar, quiet shutdown.
when the mind goes grey, the throat closes up like a fist.
it tells you that emptiness is a safe place to hide,
that if you do not take anything in,
the world cannot ask anything back from you.
but listen to me:
i am standing by the counter, and i have been there.
i know the weight of the blank legal pad.
i know how the stomach becomes a hollow room
where the ghosts like to pace.
so i’m reaching into the dark for you.
i am pulling the tab on the oven,
and i am bringing out the blueberry muffin.
it is still steaming, transferring its weight into my hands,
a sudden, solid pulse against the cold center of my palms.
i press my fingers into the rough sugar-crust,
letting the heat bleed into the deep, tight lines of my skin,
thawing the numbness before i even take a bite.
i am breaking it open right here in the dark,
letting the scent of vanilla and warm fruit
cut through the static of the room.
you don't have to peel the orange yet.
you don't have to face the bright, sharp sting of the gold.
but you have to let the frequency come back.
eating is the first rebellion against the gray.
it is telling the heavy morning that you intend to survive it.
every bite is a small, quiet syllable
rebuilding the language you thought you forgot.
it is the fuel your heart needs to exit power-saver mode,
to push the toggle back to "living."
i am leaving the other half on the edge of the table.
the sugar-crust is intact. the steam is still rising.
i am stepping back to give you space to breathe,
leaving the kitchen door cracked open
so the light can find the floor again.
it is just a muffin on a plate.
it is just a morning waiting for you to wake up.
there is no rush, and there is no pressure,
but the warmth is there when you are ready
to prove to the monsters that you are still here.