contrasts; soft, clear weather
like cool cotton sheets blowing through my window,
backpack full of every necessity, loaded and waiting by my door.
plans, plans, plans,
just like my favorite album, so many possibilities to not be alone,
but in the end there was only my face pressed against the wall,
body starting to tilt onto the cold bathroom floor,
and then heaving myself to sleep.

i will do it this time; pick up the phone,
dial the numbers. ignore
the twisting nausea, the way my hands freeze up and
shake each time there is a hint of you in the air,
each time the noises around me drill into my head and
glue my eyes shut, abrasive and too harsh. i will
let myself trade the biting sounds for whispers,
for silence, for knowing. for peace. you-in-me
that never comes. i will master this art of breathing.
no silver blades of words, no sleep-induced calm.
the place where I know how to be. just be. the moment
where my tongue and lips are still, that intake of breath,
release, and then only stillness.


1 Comment

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One response to “fear-trafficking

  1. Ohh. Sharp, brilliant imagery.

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