the early bird gets the worm, right?
wrong.
the early bird inches her way out of her nest in the morning, longing to stay snuggled up next to her lover.
the early bird leaves early so she can afford the rent on her nest that is falling apart.
the early bird goes to work and gets an early start on her day, just to come back home to an empty nest and sleep for three more hours.
the early bird takes long and scolding hot baths to ease her aching joints and to participate in some “self care”, even though it never really works.
the early bird stares at herself in the reflection of the faucet and dissociates.
the early bird takes some sleeping pills and tries to fall asleep at a reasonable time, so she can be an early riser the next day, too.
the early bird tosses and turns.
the early bird thinks about the dishes that are not done.
the clothes are not washed.
lunch isn’t made for tomorrow.
the early bird has three tests this week in college and hasn’t studied for a single one.
the early bird hasn’t had *** in a week.
the early bird feels unnoticed.
the early bird feels like she is not enough.
the early bird feels like she will never be enough.
this is the first poem I have been compelled to write after about 5 years of not writing.
I wrote this in my bathtub.
