stuck in this terrible middle,
waiting for things
to become bitter.
i’ve grieved myself
day
after
day.
crawling back into
the small space
that my worth has left me;
i try to be better
for the younger versions
of what i used to be.
i do not find
safety in this body.
i’m a spineless book;
my hardcover
can no longer
hold the importance
of this story.
blocking the drain,
the water rises.
this bath becomes a
baptism.
i find god in these w
……………………………a
………………………….v
……………………………e
………………………….s.
my head falls back,
and these sins come in droplets,
racing off of my neck.
holding my breath,
i am in control.
i am in control.
i am in control.
here,
i can breathe
underwater.
with this memorized routine,
i find my comfortable corner,
where i hide under layers.
and with my forgotten pen,
i will rewrite
myself.