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.