my dear readers,
i consider you confidants-
you know me better than anyone else.
the linoleum where i felt her eyes burning
again and the smoking tree on wall street.
someone's chest pressing into me and
when i realized i was no longer angry
in the subway station at 7:30.
mangy kittens that were free.
blinking cursors mocking me and crumpled news pages
stuffed into hollow finger tips
to keep their shape.
understanding that i was capable of cruelty and awkward conversations with a forgotten face
in line to eat.
the crushing weight of being free and the crushing weight of internal peace.
not being able to write for weeks
but it's okay, it's okay.