once again, i woke up this morning w the taste of blood in my mouth.
hearing the sound of my fan tht was once comfortable last night and yet everything feels like its too still. the kind of stillness tht isn’t quite peace, but feels like the world not knowing wht to do w u yet. light sitting in the corners of the room like it was unsure it was allowed to stay
in a room i’ve come to know my body felt foreign as if i’d left it somewhere else last night
n only half found my way back. there’s an awkwardness to mornings like this
no clear beginning, no clean ending,
j the quiet evidence tht something happened
something tht didn’t ask permission to be remembered i move slowly through it,
like im trying not to disturb the air,
like even breathing too loudly
might bring everything back into motion and still, the day continues anyway