this terrible fear seeps into my skin.
the days stretch into unimaginable weeks,
long etudes of time that swirl endlessly around a single vortex.
each conversation becomes monotonous,
dull,
effortless
forced.
when the sun does come up
it’s only to blot out the sight of our skin
as we become translucent and fragile.
we turn back to our corners of the world,
back to our refuges and niches,
back to our carefully erected nests of fear.
may the world spin for you once again, my bright eyed crutch,
and sing you softly to sleep,
while we sit here instead, stare at ceilings,
and weep.
