(no subject)
My home has a subtle but mind-bogglingly unique smell
that I imagine
has lodged itself inside my body
becoming a permanent addition to the very membranes of my lungs
and a defining characteristic
of my every deep breath.
Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night,
cozy and invincible,
convinced that I am in my old bed
in my old room,
the only place I ever felt safe from
monsters,
natural disasters,
serial murderers,
and myself
all at the same time.
A profound sadness will swell in the back of my throat
when some slight image in the dark
ruins the delicious trick my mind is playing on me.
But,
in the mean time...
I picture the eyelashes of
every creature I have ever loved
pressed down into the carpet,
and kept that way
forever.
that I imagine
has lodged itself inside my body
becoming a permanent addition to the very membranes of my lungs
and a defining characteristic
of my every deep breath.
Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night,
cozy and invincible,
convinced that I am in my old bed
in my old room,
the only place I ever felt safe from
monsters,
natural disasters,
serial murderers,
and myself
all at the same time.
A profound sadness will swell in the back of my throat
when some slight image in the dark
ruins the delicious trick my mind is playing on me.
But,
in the mean time...
I picture the eyelashes of
every creature I have ever loved
pressed down into the carpet,
and kept that way
forever.