i feel it in the wind that rattles my window when i can't sleep,
it is always calling out to someone who won't respond.

in the snow that falls and falls and falls and falls,
a fresh start for everything but me.

i feel it in the cars that look like little bugs from my airplane window,
all of them filled with people who are moving and changing and growing.

i am moving too, much faster than them and much higher up,
but i feel like i am at a standstill, stuck in hole and letting time move without me.

on new years, at midnight, taking shots of cider and throwing confetti and wanting to cry,
when my friends aren't enough, when i all i want is to feel his lips on mine but i never can.

i feel it in my folder of school work that i haven't opened yet,
in the thought of going back to take tests and to walk down halls by myself.

i feel it in the three and a half more years before i am free.

in thinking about the future and how many more days they expect me to live through.
in the words i keep repeating in my poems and in the words i don't know how to write.

i feel it in endings and beginnings and in my stupid hope that this year has to be better than the last one.
in the pages of my yearbooks and the texts on my phone and in the mirror every morning.

i feel it in the bottom of my coffee cup and on the underside of my pillow,
in the blanket that holds me when i am afraid nobody ever will. (and they wonder why i love staying in bed.)

(mpr)