themself
maybe when I move my body next
it’ll be changed
I’ll leave behind what I was
a husk on the bed
I keep thinking about myself
when I was a teen
a sweet kid, trying so hard
so delicate
life is a series of losses of self
only mourned when
you can’t accept the present
so I need to accept it then
please
please
storm winds shake the house
a familiar feeling of unease
the floor shouldn’t move
the bed shouldn’t move
like it’s proving the lie of
being in a place at all
being in a body
I imagine walking out into it
to embrace the rain
hitting hard against me, sideways
choosing to be out in the world
finding peace in recklessness
but I don’t
I stay still
I just lie still
I can’t keep making the same mistakes