i am the inside of a conch shell, breakable and
thinner than the touch of it.
when they crawl inside,
i become a home; when they are gone i find
an indecipherable emptiness.
this is not good;
many things that are not good but this,
this is the beautiful least of them.
my therapist says that i am always looking for a new way
to blame myself, i am dog eared, pounding my tail to the hardwood
when captured by a side eye, bounding to the fireplace of maybe
before returning to the warm spot. i do not eat sadness
but walk into the wave and swallow it.
phone battery at 2%, self control at 2%,
i must move my mouth impulsively, i must fill my shell
with moving water.
i am at peace with my growling need, i am okay with being filled.
this is self actualization, i just never understood
that it's precipice
would take this much balancing.