climbing windowsills

Help, I think

I lost myself again.

And it gets

colder and colder

as the sun

goes down.

Night falls

with gravity.

Tell me

why this has to be so

heavy.

I am burnt out

I smell of smoke.

The cells in my body

fight harder than I do

to keep me moving.

If the sun comes up, if the sun comes up, if the sun comes up--

All I’m doing is

waiting for the morning to begin.

For

when the sun is climbing

window sills

and the silver lining

rides the hills--

That’s when I can finally

Breathe.