I sit
between the roof's weight
and the paint seam
upholding the corner
by shrinking into carpet
rather than expanding my reach,
my fingers up to the pressure.
That would break a nail,
make that chalkboard screech
unfriending even your best friend
and I'd still be alone.
I sit
tennis shoes crossed
pay attention to the invisible teachers
turning imaginary pages
rather than the lined ones
scattered.
That would mean I am,
give life to my moments
when I'd add them to
my seashell collection
and I'd still be alone.
I sit
too far inside my house,
beyond closed closet doors
where children's clothes
can hide me.
Seek and you shall find
me in between drs appointments
and someone else's dreams
clenching my sheets for dear life
b/c, somedays,
that's all I have left of me
and I'd still be alone
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