laying face up in bed
studying patterns in the ceiling
like i used to do as a kid
trying to make sense of life
the way it moves the way it hurts
the way it doesn’t always work as intended
the wounds we take from trusted sources
how hard it can be to recover from loss

a little bit of day-drinking at noon
the epitome of relaxation
while I listen to an album of music
because she said it was her favorite
later go for a walk getting caught
in rain trickling petrichor
lightning flashing overhead
envelopes of thunder
sometimes I think of getting struck
just for the excitement of it
then a piano version of a heavy metal favorite
derails my thoughts for three and a half minutes

a river of ants on the sidewalk

makes me wonder what the fuss is

then a suspended insectoid arachnid whatthefuckisthat

it’s getting scared by a firefly is what that is

back at the apartment pull out a chair

and hope the rain doesn’t slant into cover

i need to read more books poems

to feed my soul with more positive things

and by day’s end i’m at peace
because little is as bad as it may seem
panic and stress take hold of the mind 
only when the skin is actively bleeding
of course you’d rather there not be
scabs and scars to offer their reminders
but if our story were to end today
i could confidently say I could walk away
i still think there’s another chapter though
maybe more if i’m honest to desire
and i’ll turn those pages when the words are read
all in search of that happy ending

all in hopes 

that the next time i march

into these wounds they’ll reopen

just a little bit less