There’s something so hopeful
about a pitch black sky—
the kind of deep and ominous nothing
that couldn’t care less about your
renewed sunrise and
clean slated second chances.
There’s a calm in that darkness
that I **** up in one breath.
I hold it there, in my swollen lungs,
until I go a purple fit for her majesty,
and any specks of light that catch my eye
tessellate and turn and repeat.
This world becomes a slow song
caught in a kaleidoscope,
and I’m dancing,
happily,
happily alone.