mornings are
hazy green.
not fog.
just something thick
i can’t walk through
without forgetting
what i was doing.
i missed the magnolia bloom.
again.
it’s always
just over.
like it was waiting for me
to look away.
i clench my jaw
until it breaks.
rip my heart out of the chest
only to sew it back again
maybe it’s
placebo happiness
through sadness
just enough feeling
to not feel numb.
just enough
to trick myself
into thinking
this is living.
sometimes
i tell myself
everyone hates me.
not dramatically.
just
like a fact.
like a quiet truth
that’s easier
than
well
uncertainty.
maybe this is
diet joy.
lite living.
a knockoff feeling
from the back shelf
that still gets the job done.
placebo soul.
but lately,
i’m scared of being alone.
the shape of my voice.
it knows me
too well
too precisely,
and wants
something
i forgot how to give.
Apr 9, 2025
Apr 9, 2025 at 1:42 PM UTC
mornings are
hazy green.
not fog.
just something thick
i can’t walk through
without forgetting
what i was doing.
i missed the magnolia bloom.
again.
it’s always
just over.
like it was waiting for me
to look away.
i clench my jaw
until it breaks.
rip my heart out of the chest
only to sew it back again
maybe it’s
placebo happiness
through sadness
just enough feeling
to not feel numb.
just enough
to trick myself
into thinking
this is living.
sometimes
i tell myself
everyone hates me.
not dramatically.
just
like a fact.
like a quiet truth
that’s easier
than
well
uncertainty.
maybe this is
diet joy.
lite living.
a knockoff feeling
from the back shelf
that still gets the job done.
placebo soul.
but lately,
i’m scared of being alone.
the shape of my voice.
it knows me
too well
too precisely,
and wants
something
i forgot how to give.