I lose my sense of time
and tend to fill in my book margins
with nonsense
while I draw my own map locations
and gather petals and herbs
for my own tea
sing my own words
to my own beat
twist my hair unnaturally
Wander aimlessly
Wait for the sunlight while the dark embraces
me
Hold my own hands
close to me
While I think of how your words
and my breath
tangle.

I've never really known where I
belong.
But I'm moving.
This is moving.