i used to think i could
save myself-
fix myself.
go through the steps.
therapy. divorce.
moving on. separating from the soul.

but there comes a time
when the it just doesn't matter
if the world's still turning-
your spirit isn't tied to it.
instead, is hiding. cowering under the stairs
and it's comfortable there.

comfortable and dusty.
years will pass
and i wonder if you'll ever have the courage to dig
it out. wash it off
and put it back into the world.

like blowing the lil stars off the
globe of a dandelion.

destructive,
i've been told. weeds that overtake lawns
and the beautiful green grass
but how can you be smiling
with all that perfection?
i'd rather be in bare feet
and dancing across
a field of yellow suns

that don't have to say that they love me
because i already know
and there's room enough
for that within myself.

-a.