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.